Game of Monsters
by ChestOfStories
Summary: A rather simple rescue mission at the Dam (season 3 finale) takes an unpredictable turn and carries the story into an utterly ALTERNATIVE SEASON 4. Take a ride with us, if you dare. Comments and reviews are loved immensely and taken into consideration regarding how soon new chapters come out. Enjoy the ride with us and thank you for your time.
1. Chapter 1

**THE DAM**

 **PART 1**

"Look, if your mother finds out, she'll tell Daniel. If Daniel finds out, he'll try to kill me. Please, get your mother going."

Genuine fear in Victor's eyes was not a common sight. He looked nothing like the confident conman Nick got to know him as back in LA. Even with the old world rules he seemed to be a pro at, there were things he couldn't control or trick. No more than one man can trick a tsunami to roll around him as if he were Moses.

"Have a meal and then I'll decide what we do," Madison had told Nick earlier. The way she looked at him made him regret coming to help. He knew that look for many years, and he was profoundly sick of it.

This time was different, though. Uncalled for, so it stabbed deeper.

He always brushed it off, because he had to. There was no other way and it was the solid fact of all the blame resting on him. It was always on him. Had been every time, until this day. This day, he searched himself for the same willingness to brush it under the rug and move on, and suddenly couldn't. It was the worst moment to carry the bitterness around, but there it was.

'Get your mother going.'

' _I'll_ decide what _we_ do.'

Nick wondered if there was more despise coming when he would let her know that he would decide for himself. It was the most bizarre thing, if he considered and analyzed all the circumstances before they came here, but his time alone with Troy had shifted something in him. Nick didn't want to be decided for, anymore. He couldn't go back to it after having tasted something better. With no knowing despise shed on him for any of it.

He didn't find her where he peeked, but there was Daniel. Ofelia's rosary dangling from his fingers.

Not a good sign.

"Your mother is wiring the dam with your friend," he said. Nick nodded and turned to leave, but Daniel didn't let him. "Nick, please, sit with me. I wanna ask you something."

Nick sighed and let the door close, coming down the stairs.

* * *

Proctor John winced subtly as Alicia peeled the soiled bandages off his back with forceps and tweezers, and she could hear him inhale as if trying to keep his own reaction contained. He was a tough man, that was for sure. She didn't know it was possible to walk and move the way he did just a mere hour after having spinal surgery. She supposed he still had some Oxycontin in his system, but it still didn't explain his near-miraculous recovery.

"You have a high pain threshold." A simple truth not meant to flatter.

"Years of living with a white Buddhist with a sharp tongue and a yoga mat," Proctor John answered immediately, lifting his head slightly.

"I hear narcissists are drawn to Buddhism." The words slipped from her mouth before she could truly take the time to consider them, whether it was wise to insult her captor who her continued survival was now depending on. Probably not.

He turned a little to look over his shoulder. From her current vantage point, she couldn't tell if he was offended.

"The truth of the real self is a lie, as it is in every religion."

Alicia didn't know what to make of that.

Voices called out from somewhere outside, maybe below them. She prayed it wasn't someone of hers. Seeing Strand down by the canal as she arrived with The Proctors had damn near given her a heart attack. She hadn't truly made the connection between the bikers' destination and her family's current location until she saw him. This was the very reason she had decided to go off on her own after the massacre at the ranch. Being responsible for her own safety – that she could handle. But to continuously bear witness to the people she loved being in danger… It had become too hard. Too painful. And as time passed and certain events unfolded, she wasn't even sure she belonged with some of those people, anymore. They were too different.

"And I detest liars," Proctor John continued as she readied a new bandage. "Above all else. Strand's an excellent example. How do you know him?"

Alicia stilled, but only for a moment before fixing the gauze in place, ensuring it would stay until it next needed to be changed. She didn't say anything.

Should she lie? Or tell the truth? Would it make a difference?

"Hmm?" He tilted his head to look at her after she pulled his shirt back down and moved to put the medical instruments away. "Alicia?" His voice was soft, coaxing, deceivingly nice. Like that of a father speaking to his daughter. "I've made my living holding others to the light."

"Strand helped my family escape from Los Angeles." He'd made a threat. It was subtle but she recognized it. And she acted accordingly.

"And you didn't acknowledge him because you felt indebted to him?"

She turned to face John. "Yes, we've gotten to know him."

"A lie of omission is still a lie, Alicia."

"I thought my mother was here," she admitted, not at all liking the direction this conversation had taken. It made her feel uneasy, as if she was somehow putting her family's heads on the chopping block. "She and Strand are friends."

John Proctor watched her a moment, then nodded, lowering his gaze as he asked: "What's your mother's name?"

Once more time, she hesitated. "...Madison."

He smiled. It wasn't a nasty smile, not the kind you'd usually expect a guy like him to wear. But it still felt wrong. Off.

"She is here," he said, making her heart constrict with sudden panic. "Or was. One of Strand's deal points for letting us in, we'd spare a woman by the name of Madison. I hope we haven't killed her yet."

The very possibility they might have made her feel nauseous. Was he testing her? Curious to see how she would react? If she would lash out with violence or fall to her knees and plead with him?

Alicia tried to keep her voice steady as she spoke. "If she is alive and here, would you spare her?"

For a moment, it seemed he was considering it. For a moment, she remained hopeful.

"Your mother was a part of a larger negotiation. And that negotiation collapsed," he said, pushing away from the desk he had been leaning against and moving towards her. He picked up the gun lying next to the bag of medical equipment and slipped it into the holster at his hip. "Strand's lies."

It was getting harder to breathe. Harder to think. She couldn't find it in her to meet his gaze for a while. She was feeling nowhere near confident. So she had to fake it.

"I've served you well in a short time," she said, stepping closer to him, chin held high. "I can continue to do so."

He seemed to like having a 'nurse' at his side anyway, and for the next week or so, he would definitely be in need of someone to help him with his recovery.

"You can trust me. Spare her."

He considered the girl for a long moment, eyes narrowing in thought but never wavering from hers.

"I will if you come with me to Tampico. We'll board my ship and sail for what's left of Houston. Will you do that?"

She swallowed. "You're testing my loyalty?"

He breathed a laugh, shaking his head. "I'm testing your wisdom."

The prospect of going anywhere else with this man, with his crew of rowdy bikers, sent shivers down her spine. And not the good kind. If she did this, she would not be safe for a very long time. She would be a slave. But what choice did she have? If there was a chance he would not harm her mother, she needed to take it.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I'll do that."

Proctor John smiled. "Good."

* * *

Troy shadowed Madison out of the central office, grateful to be away from the 'others', the outsiders that meant as little as a throwing stone.

Especially the older Mexican man.

Troy didn't like what he saw in his eyes. It was too similar to the animosity he'd seen in Travis, and from experience, that wasn't going to bode well for any kind of civility.

Troy didn't deserve it, did he? He'd convinced Nick to set down his shot glass and to come to the dam, to help his mother and everyone else because that was the right thing to do – not for her – but for him.

He might be in his own space right now, but if she died, he'd feel responsibility for it.

At least that had been the initial reasoning.

Being alone with her, watching her handle the C4 as if she feared it would detonate in her hand was fascinating, reminding Troy that, despite her bravery, she also had a breaking point.

"You don't have to worry," he supplied, walking up behind her, picking up the block she'd been fingering carefully, tossing it into the air as if it were a hacky sack.

Madison's eyes widened, features pinched with accusation and fear as she took an inadvertent step back. He'd never had this type of power over her before, not even in the past, and to see that mask slip was intoxicating. Even more so than the drugs Nick had encouraged him to take last night. Had Troy witnessed that the first day or even later when she had wormed her way into the folds of Otto home, into his head, things would have been a lot different, and his ranch would have survived her destructive force.

He caught it and smirked. "Did you know that even a bullet wouldn't set this thing off?"

Madison's terror swept away, replaced by incredulity. "Now is not the time to be playing games, Troy, people's lives are at stake."

"Who's playing? I just thought it would be easier to give you an example of how stable it is than to watch you trying to figure out how best to fairy it into the tunnels."

She looked exasperated. "Grab the rest," she ordered in that singularly condescending tone she possessed when dealing with a disorderly child – with him. A quirk that reminded him too much of his own mother.

Troy dropped the block onto the pile and dipped to his haunches, counting them off in his head, mentally noting that, if they were to detonate it in the end, there wouldn't be much escape for anyone.

They'd all be flattened, and those below would be the first to go.

He would have to talk to Nick about that.

"Do you even know anything about bombs?" he asked, directing a look at Madison as she tried to sift through the rest of the stuff in search of anything that might scream destruction.

She was like a fish out of water.

He crossed the space and peered into the boxes, handing her the one that had wires and detonator. He emptied two of the others in a corner and returned to the C4.

When they exited the storeroom five minutes later, Madison was edgy and in possession of her solute face again.

* * *

"It was Jake."

It wasn't a question, but yet it was. Daniel's eyes bore into Nick's daring to lie again.

Nick held the stare and did: "It was Jake."

After a long moment of silent staring contest, Daniel tossed him the keys. "Your mother will be happy to see you."

Nick nodded and got up and started away, but paused a second. "I'm sorry."

 _It was Jake. It was Jake. You killed Jake's father?_

Daniel's eyes, sharp and probing, kept staring at Nick inside his mind, his mouth kept asking with that statement tone uttering the wrong name. The wrongly stained name.

And it was hard to keep track of reality as it mixed up with what had been before Nick came down to the tunnels where his mother and Troy were busy with the C4. It was like some divine hand had spilt ink of the past into the clear water of now, and it was all blending together like magic around him, leaving him a helpless witness to something dark and dreadful. He couldn't quite tell what it was, but every fiber of his body and soul was trembling, like one's hair standing on ends when a lightning is about to strike.

"You got them all killed." Despise soaking Madison's voice. Nick could see her face clearly in his head even standing behind them facing her back. "You had no right."

"I had every right," Troy played back. "I had every, every right. That was my home, and you gave me that right. You allowed me to run. I'd do it all again. All of it, Madison. And you would, too, you know you would, 'cause you understand, 'cause you see things—"

A gunshot thundered; they both jumped.

She turned, her eyes, wide with momentary horror, locked on Nick, then to the side – on his hand squeezing the gun's handle. A faint breath of smoke left the muzzle and disappeared. A few cement splinters fell down from the ceiling where the bullet hit.

Nick's eyes were black ice stabbing into her. He lowered the gun and held out another hand, beckoning.

"Come on, Troy, we gotta leave."

His eyes never left his mother's. A black storm of astonishment, disgust and weariness twirled in them. Her hand drawing back to swing the hammer at Troy kept replaying in his mind. He never felt himself grabbing the gun – his body did before a conscious thought could form. It was like inside the mixing past and present, a droplet of future had fallen, and Nick could see Troy going down with a bleeding hole in his temple, and a piece of his bloodied skin stuck on the hammer in her hand while she watched with grim satisfaction.

"Nick—" she started.

"No," he said. "You have no right."

She looked astonished, unbelieving, as if he'd just started to speak Chinese. And then, it dawned on her, turning her spine into ice. "You knew."

Nick's face was calm and inscrutable. "I know what he's done. He knows what I've done. I know what you've done. You don't get to make that call."

Her hand with the hammer pointed at Troy like an accusing sword. "He got them all killed. He killed them all, Nick. He killed—"

"I've killed, too!" he yelled. "Wanna take a swing at me first? Go ahead." He tossed the gun on the ground and spread his arms, made a step toward her. "Do it. DO IT."

Troy had shifted closer toward Nick and now stared, wide-eyed, from one to another, like watching a tennis duel.

Madison winced. "Are you seriously comparing now—"

"There's no fucking comparing anything, mom!" Nick rapped out the words as if she had a problem understanding him. "There's not a single person left in this fucked-up world who has his hands clean. Don't you get it? The ranch is gone. It's GONE. They're all gone. You don't turn back time with this – it's just that: another kill. Another one down. Nothing more."

"He's a murderer, Nick! He's always been. He destroys everything around him."

"And you don't?! Every place we've been thus far is dead, mom. DEAD, because you think you have that right."

"Don't you dare! You and your sister are alive because we did what we had to. Because I did everything I could to protect my family."

"Did you? Did you, mom? Tell that to Chris. Tell that to Travis."

She made three rapid steps and slapped him. The sound was like another gunshot; it made Troy jump a little.

Nick slowly turned his head to face her again, his cheek stinging. Rage was flaring in her eyes. Nick looked at her, the corners of his mouth twitched ironically. He gave a few subtle, knowing nods, and fell back a step, then another.

She remembered to breathe and took an urgent inhale. "Don't do that, Nick. Your sister needs you. Don't make her pay for my mistakes. I need you. Don't do this to us. To yourself."

"You know nothing of what I need," he said. "You never did. Dad never did."

"You can't be with him, you can't be protecting him. You're choosing a monster over your closest people, Nick. Please. You, Alicia and I - we're all we have in the whole world." She turned to Troy with desperate anger. "You can go. Just go and leave him be."

"Where does it stop, mom?" Nick asked.

She turned to him, her face a question.

"Me, stepping into the same trap, somehow believing that this time it would magically pan out differently; you stepping over corpses to do what you believe is right for everyone... Where does it stop?"

"You can't say that," she snapped. "Everything I ever did was to keep you all safe. For Alicia, for you-"

"Not for me!" he yelled, his eyes blazing. "For YOU, for your selfish need to control everything and everyone."

"I did things I'm not proud of, yes, I did! But you can't judge me! You can't judge a mother for protecting her children. I had no choice! And one day, you won't have a choice."

"Yeah, that's the scary part, mom: someday I won't have a choice. And someday, you won't have a choice with me."

"I would never hurt you," she breathed, dismayed that he would suggest something like that.

"You never know. But I do, mom. I do now." He glanced at Troy: "Let's go."

"Nick," she made to catch his sleeve, to stall him, but didn't. Her hand jerked and fell back. "Don't walk away from us, Nick. Don't walk away from Alicia, she doesn't deserve it. Please, Nick. Nick!"

Nick climbed up the metal railing steps without looking back.

Troy picked up the discarded gun and followed. He threw a single gander over his shoulder, saw Madison put a hand on her face, another still gripping the hammer. He had noticed she started to swing it. He could swear he had. If not for Nick...

Her face changed. Another realization dawned on her, and she grabbed onto it because all other bridges were crumbling away.

"What is there between you two, really? Is THAT what this is? You… you _chose_ him?"

Nick walked away, never faltering in his step. "It's none of your business, anymore."

Troy jogged, catching up with his friend. Neither spoke for another few moments.

"Thanks," Troy ventured.

"Don't." Nick looked straight ahead; his face reflected no emotion. "Don't talk to me right now."

"Okay," Troy mouthed, looking down as he picked his steps. Then looked up again, remembering. "But the dam... We won't help?"

"No. Not anymore."

"The proctors will kill her. You know that, right?"

Nick stopped, sucked in a breath, and turned to look at him.

Troy was surprised to discover he was not doing so good at reading his friend's face. Nick seemed both angry and tired to him. Or maybe it was something else entirely. Nick had changed back there in the tunnels. But there was no time to analyze it.

Troy produced a detonator from somewhere under his jacket and brandished it, smiling.

Nick pondered, nodded. "Okay. We need a hiding place. They might be already here."

He jogged past Troy. Troy smirked and followed.

The winds had changed. Troy could feel it under his skin. It was not an unpleasant feeling. Not at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**THE DAM**

 **PART 2**

The proctors had indeed arrived; they were scattering around the dam to secure every possible way out. Troy and Nick snuck into one of the maintenance rooms, waiting out a team marching past on their patrol.

"I need you to get out of here, find a gun, and take a position that overlooks the dam bridge," Nick said when it was safe to whisper. He locked his eyes on Troy's, hoping he could make the stubborn Otto listen closely. "I need to find them and see what I can do. You can't go because Daniel will shoot you on sight. He's desperate, he was about to torture the confession out of me. I did all I could to convince him the horde was Jake's work, but I don't think he truly bought it. You need to get out of here asap. Do you understand?"

Troy's eyebrows shot up at the revelation that Daniel had threatened Nick with torture about what had happened at the ranch, and that Nick still hadn't sold him out. Clark could have very easily thrown him under the bus, could have disposed of him or let Madison do it as she'd unwittingly intended and be free of the walking complication he appeared to be for this family's conscience.

"You detonate that C4, Nick, and this place will crumble like a sandcastle. You'll die. There has to be another way you can get through to your mother. A radio?"

"There isn't another way," Nick rapped the words out, much like he did to his mother earlier. "I need to do this. You know it, I know it. But I need your help. I need you to back me up with that favorite gun of yours. You need to sneak out, get to our car and grab the gun. Try not to get caught, it's not just my life depending on it."

There was always another way, multiple ways, Troy knew and believed it, they just didn't have the time to find it or discuss it more thoroughly.

"Fine," he countered, aware that Clark's stubborn streak wouldn't allow for much in the way of a debate and that, like with Madison, Nick's mind was made up. "But give me the detonator. If I see things are getting out of hand and I'm sure you're able to get away, I'll make the call. I've more experience in this area."

Nick winced in defiance. "I'm not giving you shit. I asked you to do one thing, and you either do it or don't, okay? I need to go now, there's no more time."

He pushed past Troy to the door, hesitated at it, and turned to give Otto's arm a squeeze.

"Don't get killed."

With that, Nick slipped out of the door and trotted down the corridor.

* * *

A few of the proctors passed outside the windows, hauling two men along with them, guns trained at their heads. The prisoners spoke in rapid Spanish, too quickly for Alicia to make much sense of other than a few words here and there such as 'please' and 'mercy'.

She was starting to feel nauseous again. She cleaned her hands with a wet wipe from the medical bag and looked up at John from under her eyelashes. "What are you doing to them?"

He followed his men's progress with his gaze until they were out of sight. "You know what I'm going to do."

She did. It wasn't hard to guess. She had already heard several shots go off in the distance. And still, a part of her hoped she had been wrong. "The deal you made with Strand–"

"–is null and void."

"Yes, you said so. But… what was the deal exactly?"

She had caught snippets of their conversation when they arrived at the dam, but she was nowhere certain her assumptions were right. What had Strand promised to do in return for her mother's safety?

John scrubbed a hand over his face. He looked tired, which, considering his day, was not all that surprising.

"Strand was supposed to facilitate our takeover of the dam. In return, he'd be made steward of this place. He'd take care of things while I was elsewhere. That and safety for your mother and her kids. But as you saw when we came in, the corpses in the water, Strand didn't uphold his end of the bargain."

Alicia couldn't say she was surprised. Victor Strand, despite having had his good moments, craved power and wealth. It made sense he would bargain for such a position.

"Facilitate the takeover," she repeated, frowning. "What does that mean?"

John looked at her, lips twitching in a miniscule crooked smile. "Make sure we were met with no resistance from the workers. And if that was to become a problem, well… he was supposed to kill 'em, darlin'."

* * *

Nick found his mother in one of the tunnels; she was at the exit.

"You can't go there, they're everywhere," he said. Her face brightened with hope as she saw him.

"Nick—"

"Troy left, and I won't be discussing any of it with you right now, okay? Let's focus on getting out in one piece."

She nodded.

"There you are," Victor called from a bridge over them. "Hurry, follow me, there's no time."

They did. He pushed them into a tiny maintenance room. Then Madison turned on him, pressing him into a wall with a gun to his chest.

"Daniel took you in, they gave you sanctuary."

"Temporary sanctuary at best," Victor played back. "Proctor John was coming. I made a deal to save you."

"You made a deal to save your own ass," Nick put in.

"And I told you to get Madison outta here," Victor turned on Nick, his eyes bulging. "I told you to leave! But you had to be stubborn. Can you please remove the gun?" When she didn't immediately oblige, he swallowed, and added: "Alicia's here."

Nick gaped at him, feeling his heart thumping in his throat. Madison's face paled.

"She's here with Proctor John. He brought her here."

"It doesn't make any sense," Madison said.

"He likes his toys," Victor reasoned, making Nick's stomach churn. Nick closed his eyes momentarily to hold off sickness. "Maybe he likes her enough to let you go. But I wouldn't bet on it."

Madison let him go, and he tossed two uniforms at them.

"Put these on."

"Why?" Nick asked.

"It's how I move you through the dam. I'll walk you out right under their noses." Victor looked pleadingly, and when they didn't move, he asked: "Can you just do it?"

He was sweating bad now, Nick never saw him that scared before. It made Nick feel worse, for all of them. Mostly, for Alicia. He couldn't bring himself to think of what Strand insinuated. It was too out of the world his sister was built for. She didn't deserve such dirt, such pain and humiliation. No one did, but Alicia…

Nick sucked in a breath, pushing the thought away, and started to dress.

"Your time has come, hasn't it?" Madison noted, eyeballing Strand with bitter irony.

"Please, put on the damn uniforms," he begged.

"What did you do?" she asked, not moving, staring him down like he was the lowest scum she'd ever seen. Same look she used on Troy down in the tunnels. "Who was it?"

Nick watched, feeling the bad news about Alicia wasn't the last one yet.

Victor sighed and confessed: "Daniel."

"Jesus Christ!" she hissed.

"I did it for you!" he blurted, drawing a sickening parallel in Nick's brain.

"Don't say that!"

"He was alive when I left him."

"You shot Daniel?" Nick asked, having found his voice.

"I didn't kill him. It was the worst thing that's ever happened to me." Strand looked him in the eye in a way that was impossible to doubt his sincerity, but Nick thought back to when he had to shoot the man he claimed to love, and wondered. He didn't want to dwell and just proceeded to put the uniform on.

"And Lola?" Madison asked.

"I let her go. I couldn't do it."

"Good," Nick commented, putting a worker cap on. "There's still hope for you."

Nick shot a meaningful look at his mother she didn't like to hold; she started to dress herself. Victor insisted on taking the detonator, and she backed him up. Nick wasn't going to fight them over it. A death wish wasn't on his list today.

What happened on the bridge was a small disaster. It was like in that saying: what could go wrong went wrong. Lola showed up shooting the proctors, and took a bunch with her before they put her down. After that show, no one let the Clarks and Strand pass. They were ushered into the glass office, and there, next to a tall man in his late forties, stood Nick's sister.

The siblings barely exchanged glances, but Nick was glad to see her in one piece and without any visible injuries. As for the concealed ones, he didn't want to think about it. Not yet.

Alicia's mouth went dry the moment the door opened and a throng of familiar faces pushed through and into the room. There they all were – Mom, Strand, and Nick.

 _Shit. Nick's here?_

She had hoped he'd decided to take a detour with Troy after they left her a few days ago. Not because Troy was good company, but because she wanted her brother to be anywhere but here.

Alicia went out on her own to avoid situations like this, and yet here they were once again. As though fate herself willed it. Ironic.

The atmosphere became tense, increasingly so. Proctor John eyed Strand wearily.

"I am mystified," he said, calm as ever.

Strand immediately jumped to his own defense.

"I can explain."

"I'm sure you can but I don't wanna hear it," John countered.

"I was gonna kill them myself."

John stepped out of the way and his right-hand man rushed forth to slam the butt of his gun against Strand's face. Strand went down on the floor, groaning.

Alicia inhaled sharply, looking between the two men uncertainly. "John…"

"Shut up, darlin'," he responded without pause. She obeyed, swallowing her protests as John addressed Strand again. "I'm told the woman we dispatched was the "Water Queen," whom you were supposed to kill, and here she springs up like goddamn Whack-a-Mole. One wonders, is soldado alive and waiting to assassinate me?"

Strand peered up at him from the floor. "He's dead, I swear."

The other Proctor delivered a kick to Strand's abdomen, and down he went once more.

"He's telling the truth." It was Madison who spoke this time, making Alicia clench her teeth behind her closed lips.

 _Stay quiet, Mom. Please, stay quiet._

"He confessed to me," Madison continued. "And I believe him."

And why would that matter, Alicia wondered to herself, her mind spinning with fear for what was going to happen. She dared a quick look at Nick. He didn't look concerned in the least but that didn't mean he wasn't. He was just better at hiding it.

Nick could feel himself rolling his eyes inwardly as Madison just had to put her five cents in. He wondered whether she cared about Victor or she merely thought she could still use him for their advantage. Nick hated himself for that thought, but it was there, solid and proud and unwilling to leave.

Proctor John studied her with an ironic smirk. "You're Madison."

"I am," she nodded. "I'm Madison Clark."

He smiled endearingly and turned to Alicia. "Go to your mother, dear. Let's see a joyful family reunion. Please." Alicia obeyed. They hugged like two strangers. John went on to Nick. "And what role do you play in this family drama?"

"He's my son," Madison piped up. Nick kept silent, feeling it unnecessary to nod and smile.

"This one was with another white boy, acting bizarre, asking questions," one of the proctors said. Nick recalled seeing him at El Bazar. That wasn't good, but no worse than the rest of this bloody theater piece.

"Is your friend here, Nick?" John asked.

"No, he's dead, my mom killed him," Nick responded, not even skipping a beat. It would have been the truth had he not fired that gun. Her eyes narrowed slightly with either hurt or reprimand or both, but she didn't deny it. She jerked her chin high as John looked at her with new eyes.

"Wow," he said. "Really? You killed your son's friend?"

"Was more a threat than friend," she said, deadpan.

John chuckled. "What a perverse family you have, Alicia from Los Angeles. You've been a good nurse to me. But you know what I have to do now."

"Wait, listen to me—" Madison started.

John's smile evaporated. "Shut up, mother. I have to kill her because I'm going to kill her brother. I'll never be able to trust her again after that." He looked at Alicia. "I'll kill you first so you don't have to witness what follows. But you, mother-killer," he continued, his eyes flicking to Madison, "you bear witness."

Nick sighed quietly. It all felt like some kind of a fucked up déjà vu loop. Like he had seen it all before but in another form, in another lifetime. He searched himself for fear or despair and couldn't find anything to label like that. Maybe he had exhausted his emotions for today. He merely felt tired. The only bitter feeling in his heart was for Alicia. She was paying too high a price for trying so hard to be better than her mother and brother could ever hope to be.

Whenever Alicia would watch scary movies with her friends in the past, she always assumed she'd be one of those people who cried and begged for mercy if faced with the threat of an execution. Turned out, that was not the case.

She was not void of fear when The Proctor's final judgement fell. She even felt a little betrayed, which, in hindsight, was a silly thing. He was right; she had been a good nurse to him. Maybe if she hadn't, maybe if she had ensured the operation failed and doomed this man to a life in a wheelchair, things would have ended differently for her mom and Nick. Alicia'd be dead. They might not be.

Coulda, shoulda, woulda, as Nick liked to say. There was no use dwelling on such thoughts now. It was already too late to go back.

The group of bikers led them outside and onto a giant bridge. Madison clutched Alicia's hand in hers so tightly it hurt, her other arm wrapped in Nick's as they solemnly made their way to their final destination.

Alicia was afraid, but not to the extent she would have expected. Mostly she was just tired. She remembered telling Ofelia once something along the lines of: You don't get tired of surviving. You just push on.

But she thought she understood now how Ofelia had felt. It was a tiring thing, this new existence of theirs, and though most days her instincts were still to ensure her survival, there were moments… Just moments where she wished she could rest.

"Say your goodbyes, if you have them," Proctor John called out from behind them.

The three of them came to a halt, and after a few seconds hesitation, embraced one another. Wedged between her Mom and brother, Alicia pressed her face to Nick's shoulder, trying to inhale his familiar scent one last time. But he didn't smell like himself. The jacket he was wearing was not his own.

There wasn't time to say anything before a giant bearded man grabbed her by the arm and hauled away. Someone did the same with Madison, guiding them further down the bridge.

* * *

Troy muttered a prayer as soon as Nick left, resolutely attempting to summon the help of a higher power he hadn't visited in years and regarded as a last ditch effort to keep Nick safe.

If there was an afterlife beyond walking the earth as a corpse, then Jeremiah was rolling in his grave.

He checked the amount of bullets left in Nick's gun and headed out, keeping low and against the side of the building, watching out for the Mexican, Madison and anyone not on their assumed team.

 _Their_ team.

Troy'd been downgraded in the tunnels.

Gunshots boomed left and right as he started his approach for the gates, coming from every direction, leaving little doubt that proctor and his men had decided to do a clean sweep of the place. His only hope was that Nick wasn't part of the filth, and that he'd grabbed his mother and run.

A few of the bikers guarded the gate. They were taking no prisoners, shooting anyone not wearing their leathers, putting down any dead and anyone who'd missed the memo and was senseless enough to beg for water.

Troy watched and waited, biding his time.

When they didn't move, weren't summoned away to help take care of another part of the dam, and no one else came to join them, shots still ringing out, he flattened himself to the ground and freed up Nick's gun from his hip. He took aim, falling into sync with the mayhem, confident that whatever was going on would disguise his objective, and put the first one down. A clean hit that penetrated the shoulder and sent the man sprawling onto his back, his companion blindly retaliating in Troy's direction.

Troy fell back, keeping low, counting out the biker's bullets trying to assess what weapons they were using and then—thinking he had it—fired again, hitting the second in the stomach. The man cried out in pain and drove Troy to his feet. As the last standing Otto ran, he shot at the first wounded man's wrist as he attempted to raise his gun, nailing the second as he clawed at his stomach, and then finished off the first.

Troy crouched beside them, casting a look in the direction of the main area of the dam, half-expecting to see someone coming to their aid. No one did.

He confiscated their guns, their bullets and their radio, and took off toward the gate at a sprint, no longer looking back, heading for the vehicle they'd hidden in the hills.

He hadn't been scavenging very long when a command came through the radio, an instruction to keep a close eye on things while they moved to the bridge.

Troy tossed the guns into the backseat of the Jeep, found his rifle beneath the bags and other stuff to keep wandering eyes from getting itchy, and headed for the hills to get a better vantage point.

* * *

The proctors convoyed their prisoners back onto the bridge. Lola was still there, dead, propped against the side like she was snoozing. Victor shuffled behind them, and they strolled like the fucking perfect family, Madison between her kids, her arms interlaced with theirs.

Nick stole a few glances at Alicia, gauging if she was scared. She didn't look petrified, but he knew she was. It was natural. Even if he had a moment with her alone, he wouldn't find any words to express how sorry he was to have her in this shit where only Madison and he deserved to be along with Victor, who they would flank on their way to hell.

"Say your goodbyes, if you have any," John offered.

Madison collected her children in a group hug. Nick studied Victor over her shoulder. Strand looked defeated and horrified. Nick wondered briefly about Troy's whereabouts, but it wasn't the most important thing at the moment. His dark eyes lingered on Victor. He still carried something Nick needed back. Two proctors yanked Alicia and Madison from him, Nick walked around them for Victor, his arms spreading.

"Safe travels," he offered.

"Thank you," Strand said, accepting the embrace.

"Enough," John said.

Nick delivered a loud kiss to Strand's bearded cheek and detached from him, walking back to his family, hands in pockets. He stopped at the fence, overlooking the vast lake, then looked back at Strand and the proctors behind him. Strand's face shifted into more confidence.

"There's an endgame here, Proctor, one for which you didn't plan."

"You really do talk too much," John said, seemingly bored.

"Lola and Daniel didn't have enough guns to defend the dam, so they wired it with explosives."

"Bullshit," one of the proctors said.

"Top to bottom," Strand continued, "C4 to build the dam, C4 to take it down." He smiled. Nick glimpsed the shadow of what he had met in a cage for the first time.

"Take his tongue already," John commanded with the same bored tone.

"No more lies, Proctor," Strand boasted, backing away from the man and searching his coat's pockets. His smile was slipping off. Nick was leaning against the cement border, finding himself subtly amused. The feeling left quickly, though, leaving just the same weariness behind.

"You got a hole in your pocket?" the proctor following him asked, seeing panic on Strand's face as he still patted at his coat. They grabbed Victor, pulling his arms behind him. His face was that of a small cornered animal that watches the predator's teeth closing in.

"Strand," Nick called, raising the detonator in his hand. Strand looked at the boy like it was a ghost of his Thomas. "Says it's armed."

John's face pinched in annoyance. One of his men put a gun to Madison's head. Nick finally felt the ice of fear flooding his spinal cord from bottom to top. He could see in his mind's eye how her head would jerk and blood would flow. He wasn't ready to let himself feel it, see it. He wasn't.

"Nick," Strand said, his eyes pleading. "Don't touch the other button."

Nick looked at the device and flipped the second red switch up, revealing the second button. He looked at Strand, smiling subtly. "What, the one that says _Detonate_?"

* * *

Even as the men dragged them away, Madison refused to let go of Alicia's hand, clutching as if her daughter was a very expensive handbag she was worried might be snatched away. Her palm was sweaty. No doubt Alicia's was the same. Alicia squeezed her fingers, silently trying to reassure her mom it was okay. That she, Alicia, was okay.

Her attention snapped back to the other side where Strand and Proctor John were still standing at the mention of explosives.

Was that true? Or was Strand bluffing? He was good at that. A skilled liar. But what would be the point if he had no proof? Proof he seemed to lack, judging by the lost look on his face as he patted himself down.

Nick, who was hovering near the railing between our two groups, called out to Strand, and all eyes turned to him. He held up a device for all to see. A detonator.

A gun was cocked and pushed to the back of their mother's head. Alicia forced herself not to look despite her racing heart and the urge to pull her away from the lethal weapon, her gaze solely on Nick.

That low murmur of fear felt before, grew and expanded inside her until her legs began to tremble subtly. And yet, she became aware of another niggling sensation. Satisfaction. A Fuck you to these men who were about to end their lives in cold blood. Nick had the power to take them down, as well.

Nick raised the detonator again, his thumb under the second silver switch, ready to push it up. The Proctor John studied him.

"What's your play, Nick?"

Nick looked around and pointed at his men in front of me surrounding Victor. One of them had his gun trained on Nick.

"Tell him to put his gun down," he said.

"Put your gun down."

The guy did, glaring as Nick walked past him to another fence to look at what path the river would take after it was free. Strand watched him, lost and confused. It would have been very funny if it wasn't getting to such a sad note in the end. Nick returned to another side he originally occupied, and surveyed the water below and its banks.

"My mom and sister are gonna take the zodiac across the lake."

"Nick, don't do this," Madison asked.

"Just go as far up the river as you can," he told her.

"We'll pursue them," John said.

"They'll have a head start."

Alicia frowned, unable to keep from protesting once her brother's intentions became clear. He was going to sacrifice himself for the two of them.

"Nick, just come with us," she asked, a note of desperation creeping into her voice. "Please."

"He can't do that, nurse," Proctor John declared. "The detonator has a range. If you go with them, you lose your leverage, right?"

* * *

There hadn't been enough time to get to too higher ground but Troy's vantage point of the bridge as he settled in the dirt on a rock was clear enough to make a scene, obstructing only a few of the twenty or so men gathered together behind the fence.

He peered through the scope on the top of his rifle, and his heart turned cold. They had the Clarks.

ALL of them.

Fuck! Why hadn't Nick grabbed her and fled? And where the hell had Alicia come from?

Troy didn't have to be there, either, to hear his threats or know what he'd intended.

Otto jumped from his position and charged back to the Jeep, setting the rifle down in the passenger seat, quickly starting the engine, desperate to find higher ground closer, determined to provide any and all assistance that he could to keep Nick from pressing that button.

* * *

Nick didn't bring himself to look at Alicia, to see the pleading in her face. He saw it so many times and never listened, never kept the promises he showered her with. He couldn't look at her now and say no. He had a deeply buried fear that it would break him, break all this fragile ice he was dancing upon to maybe save them. He no longer remembered or cared whether Troy was in position. It was so far away, in another solar system altogether.

"I'm not negotiating, John," he said. "This is my suicide note."

"It certainly seems to be," John agreed, irked. Wishing looks could kill – the little bastard would drop dead then and stop being such a nuisance.

Nick forced himself to look back at his family. Madison was shaking her head, grieving already. Alicia… The utter loss on her face snapped something inside of him. He strolled toward them, feeling all eyes on him scorching, but only caring about them. He hated hurting them. He had been doing it all his life. And now that it was necessary, it somehow hurt the most.

"Go," he said, his eyes on Madison, the other parallel, no less bitter, surfacing in his head. "Cause you have no choice. If you don't go, we all die. So just go." He strolled closer, locking his eyes with his mother's to make her listen at least this once. "Mom, please. Go." He waved a hand along the bridge, inviting them to do as he asked.

They did. Madison had Alicia's hand in hers, pulling her forward and past Nick. They barely crossed gazes, and then they were walking away into the sunset, like in some shitty-ass poetry Nick always loathed.

He looked at Strand. "You, too, go, get in the boat."

Strand uttered his name, ready to object, although Nick read in his eyes loud and clear that he wanted to. He wanted to live.

"You wanted mercy – here it is," he said simply. "Just take care of them, all right?"

Strand understood. He nodded, grateful, assuring and sad. Nick truly saw it there – sadness for him. It was a nice touch. He had Nick's gratitude for it, too, only Nick couldn't voice it as he was walking after them already.

"It's all right," John said. "There'll be time to find them later."

"You don't survive this," Nick reacted, letting a spark of anger to flare. It made him feel less tired. It gave him hope to see it all through.

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure. Many have slipped between the cup and the lip. I'm interested to see how it all plays out. Not well for you either way, I'm afraid."

"I'm not afraid of dying," Nick informed him, hating the tears collecting in the base of his throat in a lump. He already missed them. Missed his mom the way he always wanted her to be. His dear sister that he loved so damn much he never had enough words or actions to express it and so he always had been failing in the worst of ways. And the very worst thing this time was that he wouldn't get another chance. Whether Troy was or wasn't out there to cover for him, Nick wasn't sure he could play god and make this pit he had chased himself into any shallower. He didn't feel he could get out.

John didn't look impressed. "The bravado of a junky Christ. That detonator real?"

Nick was holding it up, tempted to press it right away. But they weren't gone yet. Not. Yet. Every passing second made him ache.

* * *

Everything went quiet all of a sudden. All sounds became muffled, and Alicia's vision was blurred and askew. She felt her mother tug her away, and her legs moved of their own accord, but for most of their trek across the bridge, Alicia didn't comprehend what had just happened.

It felt like one of her nightmares. Another nightmare her big brother had to save her from. It wasn't right. It was anything but right.

"Hurry." Strand's voice cut through the hazy fog of her mind. He and Madison ushered her in front of them, and the trio rushed down the concrete stairs as quickly as their legs could carry them.

Once on the ground level, they headed outside and ran for the river, back to where the Proctors and Alicia had abandoned the boats earlier. Alicia leapt into one of them and started working on the motor while Strand made quick work of the ropes tying them to land.

"Hurry, Alicia!" Madison urged as she took her position in the front of the boat.

"I'm trying!" Alicia called back, revving the engine and putting it in reverse. It eventually decided to do her bidding, and they slowly edged away from shore. A few seconds later, Alicia had them cruising away from the bridge at top speed.

They didn't get far before the motor went dead. Alicia sighed in frustration, trying to start it back up again, squeezing the fuel pump a few times to ensure they hadn't run out of gasoline. While she worked, Madison and Strand looked on with wide, concerned eyes, between her and the engine and the bridge looming over them from behind.

* * *

"This dam," John lectured, "could be the center of a new civilization. Right here, a modern Euphrates. But it needs managing, parceling. We can't just give it away, Nick. You're smart. You understand. And you could help."

"It's bullshit," Nick said. "It's just one more thing you cruel few want to control."

"You blow the dam, the river flows," he reasoned. "You think folks want to end the fight for what they bottle? Come on! Civilizations are born in violence."

Nick had to smile.

"What's so amusing?" John asked.

"I heard someone else say that."

"It's the great truth," John said, bored once again.

"I killed the last man who spoke that truth."

"So you do understand this world," John said. "Like mother, like son. Harness the fury or get stampeded.

"I'm looking for a third way."

"There ISN'T ONE!" John yelled. "War was waiting to be realized by us. And here we are."

The boat was almost below Nick now, and he heard their failing attempts to start it again. John knew it, too.

"A quandary: you blow the dam too soon, your family doesn't make it. Didn't consider that quite, did you? End of the road, Nick." He held a hand out to the stubborn bastard. "Hand me that device."

His men were closing in on Nick, pressing him to the border as he was still hesitating to push the button. Nick needed a divine intervention. Needed badly, as bad as he had never needed it before in his entire life.

"Get the detonator," John commanded. One of his men – the one who called Nick out on being in Troy's company – neared, ready to kill him for it. Nick pressed into the fence, holding it high and still not knowing whether he'd push in the last second before they shot him down or not.

The man's head exploded in a spray of blood and brain; he fell down. His heart thundering, Nick hoped it was Troy. Who else could it be?

* * *

Troy was late in setting things up the second time as the sandy roads had been uncharted, catching sight of Alicia, Madison and Strand through his scope as they scrambled into a rubber duck, focus that lingered a couple of seconds and then went in search of Nick.

He was still up there and the group of men was beginning to close in like hyenas.

Troy inhaled and prepared to put the stranger down when suddenly his head exploded.

 _What the hell?_

Another shot rang out, and another of the proctors went down. They scrambled, shouting commands while still trying to corner Nick.

Before taking his own shot, satisfied that whomever was shooting was on Nick's side, Troy searched the hillside and found who it was. The Indians. Crazy Dog and Walker. They hadn't seen him, and given all that was going on, Troy doubted they were expecting to. As he stared at them through the single binocular, a rush of contempt took a hold of him. The aftermath of Madison nearly being killed in the tunnels, Nick's suicide mission and the knowledge that if Troy lost him – his only friend – then he officially had nothing left in this world. Nothing he could go back to, nothing that he could go forward with and that had been his safe space.

Crazy Dog smiled at Walker as if the two were sharing a joke, and took another shot.

And just like that, the air passed.

Troy turned back, focused, and pulled the trigger, joining in their macabre festivities.

* * *

John circled the body on the floor like a tiger, grinning at Nick. "New wrinkle. Don' matter. Not a game changer."

Nick walked around the corpse, keeping John across from him. An eternal dance of predator and prey.

"As for you, young Nick, I think you're bluffing. Can see it in your eyes. You're not a killer, and your family is not far away yet."

"Let's find out, shall we?" Nick suggested, holding the detonator up again.

John smiled, then let it die. "Fine. I'm bored. Kill him."

One of his men trained his gun on Clark. Nick put his finger on the switch to push it, but then another shot fired, and it wasn't Nick who went down in a spray of brain matter. Some of the proctors guessed the direction and were shooting through the fence at the hills. The sniper returned fire, and more men died.

John was yelling something, his men were yelling, more shots thundered around Nick. He stood at the fence overlooking the lake, and no sounds around him mattered. They all went quiet, as though someone changed the volume. He watched his family and Strand in the boat trying to get away. He watched them, a small smile tugging at his mouth. He wished he was there with them, and at the same time, he was glad to be up here and let them have a chance. A solid chance at life.

Nick felt the button with his thumb and pushed it. He didn't quite hear the explosion, but the water spray showered his face. The series of chain explosions followed, the cement floor beneath him trembled. Reverberating in his very bones. He held on to the fence, tightening his fingers in its metal loops.

John stared at him, furious and scared. He was being pulled away by one of his few men that still lived. He went with him when the bridge cracked in the middle, the gap snaking around the bodies along the cement floor.

Nick barely marveled at all the destruction happening around him like some nature's wrath display. His eyes locked on the little boat throttling in the dirty water as if on the same spot. The dam had cracked open and water was raging, racing through the gap away from its captivity, pulling the boat with it.

His heart was sinking lower into his solar plexus, aching and trembling in terror.

He didn't save them, after all. The flow was too strong. They hadn't gotten far enough.

Clutching at the fence, Nick couldn't move. His feet grew into the cement bridge, he didn't care about anything left in the world, his world had shrunk to the size of their boat struggling in the raging stream.

* * *

Strand got to his feet and nudged Alicia aside, taking over in her efforts to restart the engine. Like her, he struggled. She checked the fuel line again, made sure it was all right, gave the pump a few more squeezes, and finally made another attempt.

It worked.

"Come on, let's go!" Madison and Strand all but chorused. She obeyed and they were off.

They moved too slowly for her liking, and they all continued to glance back at the bridge. She tried to find Nick among the shapes and silhouettes up there but failed.

The sound of gunshots echoed through the valley, turning her insides cold. Please, don't be Nick. Please, don't be Nick.

Madison's gaze was fixed over Alicia's head as she twisted the tiller to urge them faster through the water.

"No, Nick," she murmured. Alicia didn't look back this time.

A thundering roar from behind them and the powerful quake that followed made her slip from her perch on the side of the boat, and she lost control of the engine. Water and rocks hurtled towards them, and they all dove for cover, their arms braced over their heads. For a few eerie moments, everything fell silent.

And then, the dam broke. Large cracks zigzagged up the walls, tearing the concrete apart, the lower foundation already ripped away and greedily sucking at the water the dam had to provide. Alicia launched herself at the tiller, revving it hard to get them into motion again, but it was useless. The currents were too strong, and no matter how hard she tried, the boat stood still. And then… they were being pulled down.

She didn't stop fighting, didn't cease her efforts even as her mother grabbed her from behind, either to pull her away or hold her steady, Alicia couldn't tell. Her hands tugged on her daughter's jacket, caught in her hair, but Alicia barely noticed the pain. Her heart was in her throat, her scream drowned out by the roar of the water as they finally fell over the edge.

* * *

Nick could no longer breathe, his legs a trembling jello, as he watched the boat being dragged closer and closer to the bridge. He couldn't see their faces, but he knew they were scared. They could die in the torrents, all because of him. He killed all of them by trying to save.

And it was so much more painful to have almost grabbed the lucky chance before you lost it completely. The worst torment.

He watched until they disappeared under him, down there in the raving lake. Someone grabbed his shoulder, yanking him from the stupor. He turned and didn't believe his eyes. Daniel, tired and with a gaping wound on his cheek, stared back at him. He looked so exhausted he could collapse. But the bridge beneath them was going first.

He pulled Nick, and they ran. Neither could go fast, but they almost got to the edge of it when the structure succumbed to the water that ran wild.

The world tumbled, the sky twirled around Nick, mixing with crumbling cement and murky waters beneath. He was falling. He hit something on his way, that knocked the air out of him, and when he landed in the river, he gasped unwittingly, and water rushed in. He struggled against the waves, trying to swim up, but there was no way to tell where the surface was. It seemed like one big endless deep with no light coming through it.

And there was a light no more.

* * *

Alicia's stomach lurched as her body lifted from the boat, like it would when she rode rollercoasters at the amusement parks as a child. Only now, there was no safe 'landing'. There was only chaos.

Enveloped in water, something hard collided against the side of her head. In her mind's eye, she pictured a rock but it may have been the boat. She couldn't tell. The deafening sound of the waterfall fell away but the heavy silence was no better. She twisted and turned, fighting the currents with a violent panic that only seemed to pull her further down. Her lungs burned with the need for oxygen and her already obscured vision began to narrow, red creeping in from the edges.

Soon, her efforts faded altogether. Soon, darkness took her.


	3. Chapter 3

**RIVER FLOWS NORTH**

 **PART 1**

The gunfire above had stopped as soon as the C4 was detonated and the cracks appeared, but Troy couldn't look away, transfixed on the figure glued to the fence with desperation—peering down at what and who Troy knew was his family—willing him to run.

There was time.

The bridge, however, hadn't broken apart as of yet, an opportunity the Proctor and those few men the snipers hadn't nailed had taken immediate advantage of.

Troy turned the barrel on the fleeing duo and pulled the trigger. They unintentionally invaded—help that came in form a manmade earthquake as the structure peeled apart with the force of the water—and disappeared where he couldn't see them anymore.

Had they fallen? Had they made it to safety? He couldn't tell and nor did he care.

He pushed off the ground, indifferent to the fact that the Indians could shoot him in the back as he'd considered only a couple of minutes ago, and ran for the Jeep.

He twisted the scope off the gun and used it as a binocular, observing first as the rush of water that had built like a tidal wave swept up the zodiac and deposited it upside-down angrily.

The occupants were nowhere in sight and nor was the lone figure that had been on top of the bridge – a bridge that, too, had disappeared.

Troy tossed the scope onto the passenger seat and jumped into the driver's, taking off toward the rising waters edge, getting as close as he possibly could despite the iffy terrain.

He threw the Jeep into park, hopped out and fell once as he scrambled down the side of the embankment, immediately met with water that rose to knee level and then began to fall, steadying out in seconds until everything was being pushed down into the dregs and taken downstream.

There was so much rubble, so much dirt, that for a time, as he skimmed the water, hopeful to see Nick's familiar head of ratty hair bopping by, he temporarily felt overwhelmed.

He reacted to the first thing he saw, scrambling into the depth of the water, swimming against the force as best he could as it threatened to push him along with the rest of the junk. He caught a hold of a person, yanking them to him by their clothing and an arm, thankful in part that he could still stand and anchor himself and that the figure had been pushed close the bank's edge, realizing only after he'd managed to pull them to the safety of the shore that it was in fact Alicia.

She was unconscious, and with a quick check, he could tell she wasn't breathing, either.

 _Shit._

He fixated on the flow of water for what felt like an eternity, aware that Nick had been nowhere close to where their boat had gone down, but that the water might have pushed him along, anyway.

 _Fuck._

If he tended to her now, focused on trying to get her to regain consciousness, he might miss Nick. It was a tossup. He'd save her and hope for the best or he'd let her die and hope for the best. His mind reeled maddeningly, back and forth, obsessive in its need for a choice before his hands eventually found their way to her face to open her airways, steadily beginning compressions and mouth to mouth.

* * *

How long Alicia was suspended in the darkness seemed impossible to figure out, but it felt like no more than a few seconds. Like the blink of an eye. But that was the thing in the realm of unconsciousness – time moved differently there.

Pain was the first sensation that made its presence known. Uncomfortable pressure on her chest that grew in intensity. She didn't have much time to ponder and explore said pain before her body convulsed. Instinctively, she struggled to turn onto her side as she coughed up mouthfuls of water, fingers clawing feebly at the ground beneath her as she tried to catch her breath in between.

New pain surfaced. A grim throbbing in her head, much like the headache that had accosted her in the ranch pantry a few days earlier, when she was inhaling more carbon dioxide than oxygen. But there was a slight difference, the pain focused mainly on the right side of her forehead now.

Alicia fell back after a few moments, inhaling air in gasps, teary eyes squinting up at the bright sky. Someone was looking down on her. It wasn't until he leaned closer and his familiar features came into focus that she recognized him.

 _Oh no. I died. I died and some higher power sent me to Hell. With Troy Otto._

That seemed highly unfair.

She blinked a few times, and when she finally managed to speak, her voice came out raspy and tired.

"Troy?"

As soon as she responded to his efforts and started coughing up liquid, he briefly helped her onto her side to make it easier and returned his gaze to the fast flow of water.

His hands moved at their own accord, falling away from her body the more lively she became and the less inclined she was to need him anymore.

He saved her and his job was done.

"One and only," he retorted without any of his usual wit, a mere fact to put her at ease as he gave her a quick onceover and headed toward the stream.

There were more bodies in the water now, a lot he recognized as the dead.

"Nick!" he called, trying to shout above the noise, above everything going on around them, hopeful he was out there somewhere—somewhere Troy couldn't see—and would hear.

"Why?" Alicia murmured, a question that went unanswered as he left her side. It didn't make sense. A cacophony of blurry memories and thoughts swirled around her brain, and the more she tried to grasp each and every one, the more they seemed to slip away. Until she heard Troy calling for Nick.

 _Nick._

He'd been on the bridge when it collapsed.

 _Oh my God…_

Alicia pushed herself up to sit, swallowing a groan of pain as she did so, reaching for the throbbing in her forehead. Her fingers came away wet with blood. She wiped them on the thigh of her jeans, her gaze seeking Troy in the too bright light of the sun. He was down by the water's edge.

She struggled to her feet and immediately lost her balance, falling onto her hands and knees with a pained whimper that morphed into something angry and determined. She tried again, pushed up and fought to hold herself in an upright position so she could see the river that now rushed past them better.

There were so many bodies.

"Nick?" she murmured feebly, inhaling deeply so she could next expel his name in a loud call. "Nick!? Mom!?"

Despite the whoosh of water and his focus, Troy heard Alicia get to her feet, heard her fall and then get back up again.

"I'm going to head up higher along the embankment, try to get as close to the dam as I can," he stated, making his way along the sleuth, assuming she'd either catch up or wait. "Nick!" he called, cupping his hands around his mouth, indifferent that the noise from the explosion would bring every single dead in the neighboring vicinity.

And then, as if by magic, or some magnetic force this family had – there he was. In the middle of the lake, arms semi-wrapped around something indistinguishable.

The boat? A rock?

Alicia looked after Troy as he made his way up the embankment, following the trail of the river back towards the broken dam. He moved far too quickly for her to keep up, but she followed nonetheless, stumbling along behind him and out of breath.

After about a minute she fell to her knees, doubled over and vomited the water she had unintentionally swallowed when the currents had carried her away. It made her stomach clench painfully, the pressure in her ribs agonizing, either from having been thrown around in the boat or from Troy's earlier compressions.

Troy scrambled into the water like a practiced lifeguard, swimming hard when it became too deep, ignoring the scrapes, cuts and what he could only assume were grabs as he made his way toward Nick.

When he got closer, Troy recognized he wasn't holding on at all, that the water pressure must have pulled and pushed him, and inevitably thrown him onto part of the zodiac that hadn't been submerged, probably caught between fast moving rubble and the dead below after it had capsized.

Troy kicked out at the bottom and anything trying to snare him as he circled up behind Nick, taking a hold of his shirt, jerking him back so he could snake an arm around his friend's upper body as securely as possible, and then swam back to the embankment. Back to Alicia.

The task wasn't easy and it was hard to judge the depth below. When he could, Troy lowered his feet into the muddy sand and hauled Nick out of the water as he'd done his sister, immediately beginning compressions and trying to clear his airways.

* * *

He's back in the hot box and he's dying. It seems to be getting smaller, hotter, and it's filled with water. Nick can't breathe, and he can barely see through the murky veil - the window is open and there's the farm field outside. There's no one there, no one knows that their punishment has turned into execution.

He slams his hands and feet against the walls to no avail. There's no strength left in his limbs, he's worn out completely, and the water feels so thick. His seconds are running out, he physically feels the life seeping out of his every pore.

Something flickers outside the window. His lungs are busting, making it hard to concentrate, but he tries. Someone's outside. A face appears in the window, filling up the space.

Troy. He's grinning.

"Hey, buddy, been there too long. Shame, man. The door was open."

His face disappears. Nick groans, willing him to get back and open the damn box. He can hear Troy call from the outside.

His chest feels like a balloon about to bust with excessive air, his lungs are filled with fire.

Nick gathers the last of his strength left, and pushes at the door. It budges; the water twirls around him like a vortex, pushing him out...

His chest exploded in strained coughing, desperate for air. Someone helped him on his side. Nick felt sand and dry grass under his palms. Once all water was gone from him, he gasped, panting, trying to get his heart to stay inside as it strained to jump out of his mouth.

Troy' face was the one he saw hovering over him. The vision was still fresh on his inner screen, it took a bit to readjust to reality.

The dam. He blew up the dam. And didn't die.

His eyes closing, Nick lay down on his back, waiting for the pain in his lungs to ease.

* * *

When Alicia managed to lift her head, her gaze sought Troy again and found him further up ahead, dragging someone out of the water. She forced herself back to her feet and ran as quickly as she was able, her heart exploding in her chest when she realized who Troy had caught hold of and was now coughing up water like she had earlier.

"Nick!"

Getting Nick to respond took a little longer than it did with Alicia but when he did, Troy repeated what he'd done for her and helped him onto his side.

Another voice calling his name startled Nick. He snapped his eyes open, squinting against bright light. It took efforts and a groan to sit up, but it didn't matter as soon as he made sure Alicia was real. She was here and alive.

He locked her in a hug, inwardly thanking whatever higher force kept her safe. She had a significant gash on her forehead, still oozing blood, but seemed to be fine in general. Just a thought of how much worse it could have been made him nauseous.

Alicia fell to her knees beside her brother, her hands and eyes searching him for outwardly injuries but finding none. Once he wrapped his arms around her, she could no longer keep the tears at bay, and she cried silently into his shoulder, relief and fear and exhaustion mingling in a confusing swirl of emotions.

When Nick, too, no longer needed help and eased onto his back, Troy relaxed to catch his breath and let Alicia tend to her brother, a small smile gracing his lips in gradual victory.

His smile dimmed as Troy observed the damage to the bridge and comprehended how close Nick had come to being permanently one with nature.

What an idiot.

He glanced at Clark and then at his sister, the two looking woozy and out of sorts. They needed medical attention. Or the closest thing he could get which was medicine.

"We need to get going," Troy stated as he pushed off the ground, glancing behind him, peering at the dead that were starting to migrate and double up. It wouldn't be long before the dam was overrun.

Nick acknowledged Troy's suggestion with a nod, and looked at his sister with cautious inquiry. "Mom and Strand?"

Alicia gave him a helpless, worried look. "I don't know. I don't know where they are. We have to find them."

It wasn't a plea but a demand, one she assumed Nick would agree with. They couldn't leave this place until they knew their mother was safe.

Twenty minutes had passed since the bridge collapsed, and neither Madison nor Strand had reared either ugly head. Troy could only assume the rush had taken them and had either pushed them toward the city channels or down into the actual depth of the risen lake where the infected were grappling for scrapes.

"Fine," he retorted, gently nudging their family reunion apart, taking an arm of each in order to help them off the ground. "But we're targets out here and you two aren't up to fighting form."

Nick grunted at the newly discovered pains as he stood, and doubled over, propping his hands against his knees, wondering if he had any cracked ribs. It wasn't getting much better, and Troy had a point - they were sitting ducks considering the proctors that could have gotten away. Proctor John wouldn't be lenient with Alicia the second time around.

"We gotta find her, Troy," he said, wincing as he straightened up. "Drive and search along the river."

Some sense came rushing back to Alicia as Troy pointed out what should have been obvious, and once she was back on her feet, her hand automatically reached for her back pocket. For her knife. It wasn't there. The Proctors had taken it from her, and never gave it back. Same with all of her other belongings.

She felt strangely naked without her loyal weapon, and though finding Madison was still her number one priority, she accepted Troy's concerns.

"You've got a car?" she asked them, brushing her wet hair away from her face, wiping gently at the bloodied gash with the sleeve of her denim jacket.

Troy gave them space, hovering close in case either were to take a tumble and God forbid knock themselves out.

"We'll do what we can. And the car's back that way," he said, guiding the two in the right direction with a light nudge before scrambling ahead.

He picked the scope he'd abandoned on the passenger seat, scanning the water's edge in search of Madison and Strand. Bodies had inconveniently littered the canal like trash—still moving in most cases—but none that resembled the two. That was the good thing about it and what would make this task easier. Blond and pitch black were hard to come by in this area.

Troy pocketed the instrument, removed the rifle from the front seat, and snuck it back into hiding where he could reach it, clearing up the seat to make space for whichever sibling chose to sit in the back.

The sight of the river carrying bodies with it was sickening. It filled Nick with sudden chill of fear to see the familiar blond hair and denim shirt of some face-down and clearly dead figure. It didn't come, and he forced himself to look away. It was no use. Too much time had passed, and they must be too far from here.

He nudged Alicia to follow Troy's lead while he peeled the wet uniform off and discarded it on the ground.

He cast the last look at the water, at where the bridge had been, then followed. Thankfully, it wasn't a long walk. He was having issues breathing and walking, like something was messed up inside. He had a similar feeling many years back when Alicia talked him into horseback riding with her.

She had her jacket over the saddle because it was hot that day, and then it dropped right under the nose of Nick's steed. It spooked and reared and dashed sideways while Nick went down because he had lost a stirrup when the horse reared. He felt broken from the inside for a week.

But it had been a milder discomfort than this. Falling off a horse couldn't equal going down with a crumbling bridge made of cement.

Nick claimed the shotgun seat and stilled, catching his breath.

"Thanks for saving my hide and my sister," he told Troy when Otto got behind the wheel. "For sticking around, after all."

Troy presented Nick a 'think nothing of it' smile in respects to his thanks and turned on the ignition, pulling away from the embankment to slowly follow along it.

Did Nick really think that he'd take off and abandon him to deal with everything alone? That wasn't Troy's style and had never been. Not where any of his friends or family were concerned.

And Nick was family. Whether he knew it or not.

Alicia slumped against the comfort of the backseat, a concerned frown claiming her features.

"The water was deep," she murmured once the two in the front fell silent, staring out the window in thought. "I couldn't get to the surface. What if she's just...What if she's stuck under there?"

Now, that was an alarming thought to mull over. It made Nick's heart beat faster, a trickle of cold ran through his spine.

"The current's too strong," he said eventually, unwilling to give in to her suggestion for her own sake. "It's hard to stay stuck in it. It'll carry her up. It probably has, just not here. It must be further."

"Here," Troy said, raising the rifle scope he'd been using as a binocular between them, offering it to either of the two to get a better look at the newfound river. He'd do it himself but driving—no matter how slow—wasn't conducive to watching for stray wasted as they piled into the road because of the noise created by the Jeep's engine or knocking them out of the way. There was only so much he could do.

Alicia didn't respond to Nick's words. Most of what she had to say would not be comforting. She couldn't help but remember how trapped she had felt, how hard she had fought. And clearly, she had made it to the surface at some point since Troy found her, but she knew for certain that did not happen while there was still breath in her lungs. When she stopped struggling.

What if it was the same with their mother? What if she hadn't made it out until it was too late? Or what if by some miracle she did make it out and was met with an assault by the infected? What if one of them was chomping on her flesh right now?

It was enough to make bile rise in her throat again. Alicia shifted to the other side of the backseat where the collisions with walking dead were less frequent, and rolled the window down in case she was going to be sick again.

They sat in silence as Troy steered. Nick took his scope, but had a hard time concentrating on searching. His mind had been assaulting him with all the what-ifs and maybes, all the regrets he had of pulling it the way he did. A part of his mind still felt a bit unreal. Like he had been feeling all the way on the bridge.

There was no sign of either. They stopped a few times, pulled out a few corpses. Three of them had milky eyes and snapped their teeth at them. But none of those were Madison or Strand.

Every failure made Alicia's face go darker. Nick could sense she was already grieving, unbelieving she'd ever see her mom, whether alive or dead or reanimated.

The sun was tipping toward the horizon more and more. Nick hated to voice it, but Alicia's gash needed to be cleaned, and they all were exhausted. Even Troy looked tired.

"It's gonna get dark in three hours or so," Nick said, lowering the scoped gun to his lap. "What if she got out and it's among the people we should look?"

"The people?" Troy asked, confused as to whether Nick was referring to those they'd been picking out on the side of the water's edge or those trying to grab as much of the liquid they could from the broken dam before it would all evaporate or seep away into the dirt.

It wouldn't take long in this heat – a few months – in reality and days for it to be considered contaminated by the rot buried beneath its depth.

"Where are you thinking? The trading post?"

"We can't go back there," Alicia said. "The Proctors, the ones who didn't come with John, will still be there." Besides, the thought of leaving this place behind didn't sit well with her. There was no way Mom could have made it all the way back to that old bullfighting arena. She had to be around here somewhere.

Alicia's gaze fixed on the back of Nick's head. "Proctor John… did he make it? Did the bullets get to him?"

She'd heard gunshots while in the boat. Had that been Troy? Or someone else?

"I couldn't tell you," Troy responded. "I took a couple of shots at him but so much was going on that it was hard to tell."

Nick took a deeper breath, put the scope back up and looked at the water, then at the people coming up with buckets, bottles and anything that could hold water.

"John and a couple of his men were still alive when I blew it. They were trying to get away. I was watching you guys… then Daniel came out of nowhere and pulled me away. We were almost off the bridge when it collapsed. I've no idea if he made it. But I would bet John did – they started running before me. They had time to escape."

There was no one familiar in the crowd, and it was getting more frustrating. Nick lowered the scope again and thought about Troy's question.

"Trading post is not the place," he said, half turning with a wince to look back at Alicia. "If she survived it and climbed out of water, she wouldn't leave the river side, just like us – she'll be searching around the river for you. For days if she has to. She won't leave until she exhausts all her hope to find you, and that takes a while."

A new sense of dread crept over Alicia at the likely possibility John was still alive, out there somewhere, maybe even looking for them. For Nick, who royally screwed up his plans.

"And you," she insisted, having seen firsthand the panic overwhelming their mother every time Nick went missing in the past. She'd search for him tirelessly day and night, even enlist the help of family-friends and neighbors if needed.

She'd never leave him behind if there was another option.

Nick looked to Troy, then out at the Mexicans scooping dirty water from the stream.

"We will have to stick around, drive back and forth until we exhaust our own hope. But no extremes: it gets dark, we find shelter and continue with daylight. Alicia needs her wound cleaned, means we gotta make a stop."

"It's just a scrape," she said, despite having no true knowledge of how the wound looked. It had stopped bleeding, though. That was good enough for her at the moment. "And all this driving's getting us nowhere. I'll go down, ask around if anyone's seen her. Or Strand."

Her high school Spanish would be enough to make herself understood. Even Nick had learned more phrases recently after staying with Luciana, and could probably help, too. Troy – she didn't know. But considering the strong level of racism she had seen in Jeremiah and what had trickled down to his youngest son, she assumed he'd never bothered with the language.

"You are both probably suffering concussions," Troy reasoned. "If anyone is going down there, it'll be me. You fall in and I doubt any of the people are going to scramble to get you out."

He drove for a while longer and then stopped.

"If you want to be helpful and think you can manage, you can drive for a while and take it slow. No more than twenty miles," he added for weight. He climbed out the car and peered between the Clarks. Then reached into the back, claimed one of the handguns that had fallen to the floor and checked how many bullets it had before slipping it into the waistband of his pants. "Are you two going to be okay?"

Unless most of the people down by the river spoke English, and Alicia doubted it seeing as many of them were children, sending Troy didn't make much sense. She didn't have to argue that, however. Nick did it for her.

He couldn't keep back an ironic smile. "Don't be stupid, Troy, your Spanish's good for nothing. Get back in, do the driving."

He put the scoped gun on the dashboard and pushed the door open, stepped out. He was steady enough on his legs, he found. His head ached a bit, the inside of his ribcage ached a lot, but there was nothing he could do about that one aside from trying to not let it show.

"My Spanish gets me by," Troy contradicted as he walked over to their side and started down at the people below. Just the idea of communicating with them was exhausting.

This whole thing was.

Nick rummaged through the bags and things Troy had stored in the back of the car, found the med kit, and pulled Alicia's door open. He placed the kit on her lap, turned to Troy.

"Do we have water or better some alcohol among the shit you piled up here?"

Alicia instinctively took hold of the kit, her gaze roaming the parts of Nick she could see. "Are you hurt?"

"Stay here and tend to your sister," Troy said. "The water's in the bag, along with some medical supplies but no alcohol. I didn't really figure we'd need that after—"

Troy didn't go into detail about what they'd been doing the night before. It wasn't necessary.

"Maybe the culos will be able to provide me with some," he murmured, walking away from the two, using the fact that they were injured to his advantage, putting quick distance between them.

Nick regarded him a moment, then reached in the back, rummaging some more until he got the half-full bottle of water.

He unscrewed the cap and gave it to Alicia: "Drink and wet a gauze." Then turned back to Troy: "You have fifteen minutes. If you're not back in fifteen, Alicia and I leave this awesome packed car of yours and go do it our way."

Nick smiled at him, translating that he totally meant every word, then took the gauze from Alicia and started to clean her gash gingerly.

* * *

Troy waved off the time frame, carefully trekking down to the water's edge, wondering if the people scavenging so desperately for water knew they were making themselves easy pickings for the infected.

They fought them and successfully killed the few that got too close, but the noise the kids made when scared only made it worse. Why would they even bring kids out here? Why not hole them away?

"Hola," he greeted, raising a hand to awkwardly wave.

The tanned woman knee deep in the water momentarily halted what she was doing and looked up at the American, confusion and suspicion written on her face.

At least in that essence she's smart, Troy thought.

"I—I'm…" He begun to lose her and he'd only just started talking. He took a step closer, trying to funnel the words together in his mind in a way that made sense. "Estoy… buscando ah..a alguien."

She looked at him and then continued her task, ignoring him as she attempted to heave it out of the stream and onto the embankment. A voice that sounded distinctly like Madison reminding him for a second time that day that he was in their country and not the other way around.

He got closer to her and forced a friendly smile onto his face, pushing aside her hand to grab the container and to lift it.

She reacted immediately, shoving him, rattling off in Spanish so quickly that he only caught one or two words while he tried to defend himself.

"Calm down! Calmese! I only want to help. Ayuda. I don't need your water."

All eyes had turned toward him, and most had begun to drag their stuff away.

"I'm looking for someone. A woman, moonar… mujer, color de pelo… blonde, rubia," Troy continued, scrabbling for every word he could remember, indicating to his head, growing more frustrated as she inched away, dragging her kids with her.

He let them go. He didn't have much of a choice.

He glanced at the water, wishing the woman would rise up already, and then moved to the next individual, repeating his former phrases, doing his utmost to stay polite and friendly.

He could do this. He would.

* * *

"You have the nicest friends," Alicia murmured in the wake of Troy's departure, following him with her gaze while she opened the med kit and located a piece of gauze. She wet it with the water Nick gave her and allowed her brother to take it from there, trying her best not to flinch as he went to work on her wound. "You didn't answer my question. Are you hurt?"

Nick smirked at her comment on Troy, but there was a bitter taste to it in his mouth. He screwed her over for him. And he still wasn't sure whether he'd want to go back and do it differently. Let Jake kill him. Nick wasn't sure he would. Less so with every passing hour since he made that choice.

Pushing the thought away, he shook his head, swiping the blood off around her gash the best he could to not hurt her.

"I don't think so. Aside from having gulped a lot of filthy water, I'm fine. You feel dizzy? Headache? Anything else that hurts?"

"Better now." And she was. The vertigo seemed to have calmed sometime in the last ten minutes, and she was no longer feeling nauseous. As for her ribs, she expected they would be sore for a while. It wasn't uncommon in cases where CPR had been administered. Sometimes the ribs even broke under the pressure of chest compressions.

She poked around the medical kit, eventually finding some closure strips. She assumed she didn't need stitches and that the delicate band-aids would do.

"I should have hurt him while I had the chance," she murmured, eyes on the package she was slowly unwrapping. "Proctor John. I could have. I just...I didn't know what he was planning."

An excuse that didn't exactly hold up. Not in her mind, anyway. She could have bought everyone time to get away had she made sure John never got up off that operating table.

Nick put the gauze down and took her chin to make her look at him. "Hey, don't do this. None of it is on you in any way, okay? This is just… what always happens. With places like that dam, like the ranch – it's a matter of time. We've learned it all the hard way. And you could've done absolutely nothing aside from getting yourself killed or abused by that man."

He poured some more water on the gauze and went on with finishing touches.

"It wasn't my decision to blow it, but I… I just… Strand told us he made a deal with John – he was a Trojan horse for them. He said that deal was gonna save mom and us. He just had to kill Daniel and that woman with him. I coulda let him do his shit, but I just didn't trust him more than I could trust myself. Maybe I was wrong to screw up his plan with my no-plan prank, but I wasn't prepared for another of his affairs that'd probably go sour. I shoulda let you guys go further, but there was no more time.

"If there's anyone to put this on, it's me. It's the goddam truth of it. I pressed the button before you got away."

He took the band-aids from her and applied them, gently making the gap on her skin close to prevent the scarring.

This was rare. Alicia didn't blame Nick for anything that had happened here, the thought hadn't even occurred to her. But it surprised her he was willing to share such self-reflection with her.

In the past, before the infection broke out and the world fell apart, when Nick was still highly addicted to heroin, he never would have admitted something like this. He would have found a way to explain it away, excuse himself of any and all responsibility. At least until he went back to rehab, and was able to see things more clearly.

She smiled, the notion she was getting her big brother back piece by piece briefly pushing through the general fear and grief of the day. "If I'm not allowed to wallow in self-hatred, neither are you."

She waited until he fixed the strips to her forehead before she grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him in for another one of those rare embraces that she sorely needed.

Nick reciprocated her embrace, nuzzling in her hair as his eyes closed to savor the moment, to let himself draw gratitude for her being alive and relatively well, here and now with him. He couldn't have hoped for more, or even that – he was a dead man on that bridge, no matter Troy or anything else that saved him by pure chance.

"What if we don't find her? What will we do?"

He reflected on her question. It pained him, but because of her. It had been more or less clear to him before Troy dragged him to the dam.

"I walked away from her," he said quietly into her wet hair, and pulled away from her, lowering to squat at her feet, wincing briefly. "I was already out, leaving her behind with all that C4 business… Troy stopped me by telling me she could die."

He forced himself to look her in the eye, wondering if she could possibly understand it. It might be the wrong time to stir it, but it was gnawing at him for a while. He felt tears sting the back of his eyes, but he knew hardly any would spill now.

"I went back to help, to make sure she wouldn't get killed while I wasn't around to do anything about it. I did, but… not because I wanted to… you know? Because it was some duty, something I had to do."

He shrugged as if to express how he didn't know why he even said it. He truly didn't know exactly why. Like he needed to hear himself speak it out in order to understand what it all meant.

He sought Troy out with his eyes – Otto wasn't doing so well with the locals, it seemed. The comedy of it didn't hold Nick's attention, however. He let his gaze drop to the ground, the image of his mother in the tunnels with that hammer in her hand heavy on his mind.

Alicia frowned, her confusion increasing the more he tried to explain. Her hands fell to her lap as she looked down to meet his gaze. She felt small, like a child being told something highly important by an adult, and they already knew she would struggle to understand. Similar to when Mom had informed her of Dad's 'accident'.

A few days ago, Nick had asked Alicia to come with them, and he seemed to have every intention of joining Mom, Strand, and Ofelia here at the dam. What had changed to make him want to leave as soon as he got here? And why had Troy of all people insisted they stay and help? He'd always seemed to have some weird obsession with their Mom, but still…

For a long, long moment, Alicia said nothing.

"What do you mean you didn't want to?"

Nick drew in a long breath, frowning as it hurt his chest, then looked up at her wearily.

"I just didn't. I guess it was something similar to why you left on your own. I was too damn tired of it all. Every place we went ended up in ruins, and every new place we found, she wanted to take over. She just always wants to take over. And whenever she has me around, I feel she needs to keep me in line, as well. As soon as I make a step sideways, there's the old mom with that cold you're-using-again look. I was planning to stick around the outpost before Troy told me proctors were going to attack. He brought me here to warn her, and the first thing she said to me was I hope you're using clean works."

Her brow remained furrowed. Not from anger or sadness, but further confusion. The more Nick told her, the more questions popped up that needed to be answered. Because most of this still didn't make sense to her.

It wasn't surprising he'd felt suffocated by their mother's 'love'. Mom would constantly hover over him like a nurse on suicide watch. This was nothing new. It had been like this ever since it first became clear Nick had experimented with drugs. Not that it helped any. If anything, it seemed to have driven him further down the path of self-destruction.

But ever since they left Los Angeles, Alicia hadn't gotten the sense Nick's addiction was high on the list of Mom's priorities anymore. And as far as she knew, Nick hadn't even indulged in alcohol, making Madison's comment all that more random.

He sucked in another deep breath, feeling sicker every moment the truth – at least a chunk of that truth – stayed buried and rotting inside him, and he made himself meet her searching gaze again.

"She almost killed Troy down there," he confessed. "Over the ranch and the horde. I stopped her and… walked away with him. She took over the whole world that he knew, he lost everything, then I had to tell him I killed his father so she could make a deal and lie about it, and then he got exiled because I didn't let him get himself shot that night in that damn house. When he came to warn me about that horde, he was out of his mind, he hadn't slept for days, almost raving. But he still came to warn. I don't justify him – not in a million years – but I…"

He threw his hands up and sat down on the ground against the side of the car.

"I don't know what to tell you. I just couldn't be there standing between them, anymore, and scratching my head trying to pick sides where there weren't any. I couldn't let her play god's punishing hand to him, so I took him like my eternal fucking sin, and left."

His confession about Troy did take her aback, however. They'd all wanted him dead at one point or another. Their initial meeting had made Troy their enemy. Even Nick, who didn't really approve of violence, had pulled a gun on him. And Troy Otto wasn't exactly the epitome of mental stability.

But Alicia didn't understand why, after she chose to send Troy away instead of having him killed, Mom now wanted him dead. For what?

The horde and the ranch, Nick said.

 _The horde and the ranch._

And just like that, little puzzle pieces clicked into place, painting her a very clear picture.

She had asked them that day after the little group got her out of the pantry. She had asked Nick and Troy both: Where did the horde come from?

And they had lied.

Alicia sat very still for the next few seconds as Nick propped his back against the car and sunk to the ground, thoughts and flashes of memory swirling wildly in her head. Something inside her snapped.

Her gaze fell on the medical kit and the pair of silver scissors that glinted up at her. Before she knew it, her hand closed around them, and she shot out of her seat, vision blurred by angry tears as she moved through a small group of women carrying their newly collected water, heading straight for Troy.


	4. Chapter 4

**RIVER FLOWS NORTH — PART 2**

Nick sensed it, much like he did back in the tunnels under the dam when he saved Troy from Madison's hammer. He darted after her with agility that surprised even him. All pains forgotten, pure adrenaline rush got him to her when she barely made a full five feet from the car.

He scooped his sister up and pushed back into her seat, holding her wrist in his firm grip. He didn't wrestle the scissors from her - she needed to want to give them up herself.

Alicia strained against him on pure instinct, fighting his strength with her own even if she knew they were not evenly matched. While he tried to capture her gaze with his, she attempted to look around him, over his shoulder, to find her target once more, to get at Troy in any way she could even if it was just to make him see the hatred in her eyes.

"Alicia, please," Nick begged, trying to hold her eyes with his, stupidly hoping she would let him make her understand when he wasn't understanding it fully himself. "You can't change anything with that now, you know that. I swear to you he suffered as greatly and even more. He's punished more than anyone could manage by just killing him. He lost his whole world with that ranch and his family. And he loved Jake, who was the only wall protecting him from his drunk of a dad and the mother that despised him. I saw him holding Jake, I saw him bury his brother and mourn him, I saw how it broke him. He wanted to die, he asked me to kill him, but I wouldn't."

He searched her, hopeful and pleading, then released her wrist and lowered on his knees before her.

"He's punished beyond anyone could manage. But if you need to blame somebody, blame me, because I lied for him - to you, of all people, which I'll always hate myself for - and I let him live. I don't know why. I guess somewhere along the keep-your-enemies-close mission, I just saw through the monster mask everybody else kept seeing, and there was a broken kid. Forgive me, if you ever can, because I'm at fault no less than he is, but killing him… it's not worth losing your soul over. You're not like that. You've never been, and if it's what we came to, let's just go back into that river, you and me, and end it. Because living with it is not a life."

Nick was talking, rapidly and with a pleading tone, but Alicia didn't even catch half of what he was saying, only snippets here and there while they struggled against one another, only coming to a halt when he finally released her. She was still clutching the scissors in one hand, and with the weight of his body atop hers no longer an issue, she straightened in her seat, breathing hard as a result of her desperate anger and their recent exertions.

"...killing him...it's not worth losing your soul over. You're not like that."

Nick's voice suddenly broke through the haze, and her gaze snapped to him.

"Do you know what I had to do in that cellar?" she asked, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to keep it steady. "We lived with those people for months, got to know them, cared for them, and I watched them all slowly die. Innocent people, Nick! Children! And for what? Because Troy felt he was owed retribution?"

Her anger flared again and she threw the scissors to the ground, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes in a worthless attempt to keep from crying.

"Ten people. I killed ten people. In a stupid attempt to save everybody else. And it didn't work. It was all for nothing." Her voice broke, and though she could no longer keep the tears at bay, her hands remained firmly planted over her eyes. "They were so scared…"

Nick had a pretty good idea of what had happened in the bunker while he and Troy were trying to solve the problem youngest Otto had brought on them. It was obvious to even an untrained eye that would scope out the bloody site.

But hearing it from her killed Nick from the inside. Every word stabbed into his heart and stole his breath. He couldn't remember ever feeling such an all-consuming agony of devastation and pity and self-loathing for having helped push her into literal hell when he was supposed to protect her from any harm or evil until he was dead.

He had no words in his vocabulary to express any of the feelings that were scorching him as she hid her face in her hands. He didn't dare touch her, afraid she'd flinch away.

Nick looked down at the scissors she'd dropped, regretting that Troy saved his life back at his house, and then again and again so he had to face his sins now when he had no excuse, nor any way of ever redeeming himself in the eyes of the person who mattered most.

"You did what had to be done to help and save and protect people around you, Alicia," he uttered quietly, still staring at the scissors and suddenly feeling like a man lost in a blurry dream. He felt impossibly, fatally tired. "Because it's who you are. You stay strong for people who need you to be while you're breaking and tearing on the inside where no one cares to see. I know it because you always did the same for me and I could never pull my part. All I ever did was fail you, over and over, and I never deserved you. I never will. I should've saved you from this terror, because I saw it coming ahead of time. It was like a bad smell you can't track down but it's ominously there. I should have left with Luciana and convinced you to come, too, but I got caught in it like a damn fool and allowed it to play out like I always felt it would. I tried to do the right thing, but you know, there wasn't anything to fit the description. There was simply no right things. We came like guests to a place that looked like heaven but was a leverage in a war no one could win. It was a tie, a checkmate right from the start, before we knew it. I felt it. I wanted to leave. But didn't. I finally had you and mom and Luciana was shot because of me... What happened after was a series of horrible consequences to things neither you, nor I did. It was between Jeremiah and Walker, neither would have let it be bloodless. We got caught in the middle, and mom... I couldn't stop her. She lost Travis and almost lost us, and that was just another side that made it a triangle of doom."

Nick looked up at her, ashamed and broken and scared to see despise in her eyes that he knew he deserved.

"I know your anger is set on Troy because you feel he's the main reason it all fell on our heads, but all he truly ever has been is just a gear in a bigger machine. Otto orchestrated his views and beliefs, and then our mom came with her school counsellor thing and steered him to where she wanted him. And I didn't stop her because it was too late. She didn't believe in Jake's leadership because she couldn't control him. She put her money on Troy when he responded to her. And when Walker came, she probably decided to be it herself. She went into a war that was not ours to partake in, but we all got hurt in it.

"You didn't deserve any of it. I wish I could have shielded you from all that horror, but I made my crappy choices and couldn't be strong enough for you. So I failed you in the worst of ways."

Alicia tried to restrain the weak sobs that shuddered through her body, and managed somewhat to keep the more powerful trembles at bay. But like with the dam now far behind them, her foundation had cracked and the tears could not be stopped. And it pained her to cry in front of Nick now because she knew it would hurt him, and she knew he would want to absorb her pain and carry it so she wouldn't have to.

She'd never been much for crying. Not even in situations when shedding tears was expected. After dad had died and Nick's life spun out of control, she had learned to put up a front, to keep herself cold and hard and not let the people around her witness the devastation and loneliness that stabbed at her behind the scenes. It came out like anger, she knew. Anger at Mom, at Nick, at Travis who dared get involved in their fucked-up family, and she assumed to most she simply appeared as a pissed off, sullen teenager.

But it was necessary. Not just for her. For Mom, as well. She wouldn't have been able to handle Alicia's sadness.

"I always thought you were okay," she'd said during a recent moment of confessions. "You're so strong."

Alicia had played her part well. And sometimes she resented her mother for not seeing through the facade, for not looking deeper.

But Nick had. Alicia didn't realize it until this moment.

"You stay strong for people who need you to be while you're breaking and tearing on the inside where no one cares to see."

Her hands fell away from her face and her brother came into view, albeit blurry due to the fresh gathering of tears in her eyes. He looked so lost, and his voice implored her to listen to what he had to say. So she did, silent and occasionally wiping at her face with the sleeve of her damp jacket.

Alicia never blamed Nick for their stay at the ranch or what happened there. It was out of their hands, and they'd all tried to help the best they could. To keep the peace and avoid bloodshed. And he didn't seem to understand he wasn't responsible for her safety. She was no longer a little girl, and in most cases, she could handle herself. But she couldn't blame him for thinking like that either. After all, hadn't she just confessed to a similar thing earlier? Hadn't she said she should have killed Proctor John on the off chance it would have changed Nick's and Mom's fate?

And she understood there had been bigger things at play at the ranch, for years and years before they arrived. Alicia knew Troy wasn't the sole villain in this piece and that many had played their part – their own mother included. Alicia understood he was damaged, had probably been abused and neglected in ways that made her own mom-issues look like a walk in the park. But did it truly excuse the heinous acts he had committed? Did it excuse mass murder? Never.

Nick fell silent and she continued to watch him for a while. She assumed he expected her to argue, to call him out, unleash her anger on him. But she didn't. Her fury had seeped from her during his speech like the air from a balloon. And she was tired. So very tired. She couldn't find the words.

For a small eternity of a moment, her face was inscrutable. It seemed she couldn't quite settle on anything and emotions just ran around and through until Nick saw what he profoundly felt himself: exhaustion.

Alicia tipped forward in her seat and wrapped her arms around her brother, burying her face in the crook of his neck and allowing his shirt to absorb her tears, hiding against him until she felt thoroughly finished crying. Like so many times when they were kids and had only each other for comfort while their parents were too preoccupied each with their own.

He held her while she needed him to take her tears, and he let his own go and creep down his cheeks. He realized there was only so much pain he could hold in, and some needed to get out to let him breathe.

"Don't lie to me again," she said when she finally managed to speak. "I need the truth, Nick. I need people to stop keeping me in the dark."

* * *

The crowd wasn't receptive to Troy's presence or broken Spanish – although there were a curious few – children mostly, who'd come in walking distance of him as if he were a zoo animal. Their parents would reprimand them and tell them to stay close, to steer clear of the white man and the ghouls, and eventually drag them away to their sanctuaries.

This went on and on until an ageing lady in her seventies took pity on his feeble attempts and placated his enquiries. Troy described Madison and Strand and added a few more descriptors that had come to him the more relaxed he got trying to explain himself in the once abhorrent language. She apologized, told him she hadn't seen any unfortunate tourists, and plied him with a slew of words he knew was meant to be a comfort.

A prayer, he guessed.

He thanked her by carrying her container of water to the trolley at the top of the steep embankment, returning to help her up the rest of the way.

A week ago, he wouldn't have bothered, waiting with almost morbid fascination for her to topple into the stream and fight her way out of it or to be munched on by the loitering dead.

That, or he would have been completely indifferent.

And he still was, but something had altered slightly since choosing to accommodate of Nick's more autonomous opinions and the loss of Jake. Like one kind favor deserved another. A tribute to who his brother had been in his life and what he ultimately would have wanted if he hadn't been lost. If _Troy_ hadn't gotten him killed.

Troy looked at the two siblings in the distance, observing the fact that they seemed to be in deep conversation and that there was clearly emotions involved. If their body language was anything to go by.

He avidly decided to avoid that and headed further along, back in direction of the dam, hopeful he'd find Madison washed up somewhere begging for life and repentant as all hell for thinking she could kill him.

* * *

Her request as Alicia pulled away cut Nick a little. He gave a subtle, knowing nod.

"It's why I walked away. I know no other way to stop it."

He took her by the shoulders gently as if to create a better link for her to understand him better, his eyes searching hers.

"I love her, Alicia. I don't want her to die. I'd give my life for both of you - it's never gonna change. But if or when we find her, I will want to stay away."

It was a relief to hear that, despite everything, Nick, like Alicia herself, still didn't want their mother to come to any harm. She had done a lot over the past few years that Alicia couldn't get behind, but she was still her mom.

Alicia nodded, acknowledging what he was saying and that she agreed.

He let his hands slip off her arms, leaving her to take the thought in and maybe start searching for her own footing in it.

"If you decide to go with me, I'll never leave you or lie to you. I'm sick of it and I want a clean slate. Otherwise, it's not worth fighting for this life anymore."

She hadn't even thought that far ahead yet, had been too preoccupied worrying about his safety and now mom's to consider what would happen once they were done here. She didn't regret her earlier decision to go off alone after the mayhem at the ranch. It was something she needed, something she still needed. But it had never been about running from Nick. She just needed a change, a life where she could make her own decisions based on the truth, and not be dragged along behind Mom or Strand or some other authority figure who decided Alicia was a lost little lamb. She needed a chance to be her own person. She didn't think Nick would stop her from that. Troy, she was less certain of. She didn't understand his motivations. Did he truly consider Nick his friend? Or was he playing him? And what happened should Nick no longer want to be as friendly? They'd all seen how Troy handled rejection. A whole family had suffered the consequences of that.

"You trust him?" she asked Nick after another bout of silence, gaze momentarily shifting in the direction where she had seen Troy last. "I know you like him, but do you trust him?"

Nick followed her gaze shifting toward where Troy was still attempting to talk to strangers. There was not much reflection to be done to answer her.

"With my life. As fucked-up as it looks, he's yet to fail me."

He looked back to his sister, seeking the right words to explain. If he could.

"He had numerous chances and reasons to kill me, and mom, but he didn't. I think he simply wants to belong. To be accepted. He lost Jake, but he didn't stop needing him."

 _Jake._

Another pang of pain gripped her chest. Alicia had tried so hard not to think about him these past few days, to not think of anything ranch-related whatsoever, and the fact she had yet to start mourning his death seemed like an insult to Jake's memory. There were other things to feel guilty for, as well. Like how she hadn't been able to open up to him as much as she did with Matt, how she had failed to make him feel safe in their relationship, whatever it was. So much so, he'd believed she didn't care for him at all.

"He wanted to leave, you know?" she said, solemnly meeting Nick's gaze. "Jake did. He wanted me to come with him to another ranch he knew of, just the two of us, away from mom. But I said no."

It sounded painfully familiar to Nick, like a trite siblings parallel. She could be regretting saying no to Jake, and Nick could totally relate. But in his heart of hearts, Nick was selfishly happy to have her with him now. It was hard enough to let her go when she left after the ranch bloodbath. With Jake, it could have been final.

Like it could have been for Luciana and himself.

Alicia paused, wincing slightly at the memory of her conversation with Jake the morning he died.

"He accused me of being a pawn in mom's game. That mom was manipulating Jeremiah, you Troy, and I seduced Jake. I'm not sure I managed to convince him otherwise."

And she'd always regret that. Because he deserved better.

That hurt Nick for her. Jake wasn't wrong about mom, but it was harsh on Alicia. Nick couldn't blame him for suspicions, however.

She took a deep breath, braced her hands on her knees and stood up, needing to stretch her legs.

"I don't trust Troy," she admitted, freeing a section of her hair from its ties, allowing it to fall loosely around her shoulders before she gathered it all again in a ponytail. "And I don't forgive him for what he's done. But I trust you. For now, that's enough."

Nick took in her resolution on Troy's problem, and gave an understanding nod.

"I regretted not leaving with Luciana," he said. "But if I did and you didn't... Who knows how it would've panned out. At least now you're alive and with me. I prefer that. I'm sorry about Jake. He was onto mom, but it was uncalled for to you."

He pulled her into another short hug, kissing the side of her head.

"I'm sorry."

She let him pull her in for another hug, the kiss to her temple making her smile slightly. She and Nick had never been overly touchy-feely, not since they were little kids and hugs and kisses came easily. But she'd always secretly loved these moments. It made her feel safe. Whereas Mom's hugs often came with somber commentary attached, like "I have to go", "Your brother's missing", or "Daddy's not feeling well right now", Nick's warm embraces were always simple and unproblematic, as much a comfort to him as it was to Alicia. Just shared affection.

"Not your fault," she said as they parted, leaning down to pick up the scissors again, and wiped them clean of dust and sand on the thigh of her jeans. She put them back in the medical kit and closed it.

"The Proctors took my knife. Think Troy has one in his arsenal back there?"

Nick smiled. "Feel free to find out."

He glanced back at Troy, then gave her a cunning squint.

"I think his fifteen minutes are out."

It was like a pebble in his shoe every time she mentioned proctors. Nick kept wondering how bad it was and whether he ever should ask about it. At the same time, he was afraid to have his grim assumptions confirmed.

He moved to the driver's side and hit the horn a few prolonged times, summoning Troy.

Alicia got back in her seat, on her knees this time, and leaned into the storage room in the back, rummaging through Troy's collected belongings until she found what she was looking for. Some sort of hunter's knife. It wasn't the balisong she had become quite skilled with since snatching it from its original owner, Jack, but it would have to do.

She stuffed the knife with its sheath down the side of her boot for easy access and safe storage, turning to peer out the open door her side to see if Troy intended to come back.

* * *

Troy hadn't been walking very long when the repeated blare of a horn reached his ears. There had been a few other cars out there alongside the trenches that he'd observed, rusty trucks mostly, but instinct told him this was specific for him and that he needed to get back.

He was emptyhanded, anyway. Madison wasn't here. Not where he could see her. Although this wasn't a problem for _him_ —given Troy wasn't all that eager to provide her with the opportunity for a forth strike — he suspected her children would feel differently.

Troy jogged up the side of the incline and approached the jeep. "No luck. New plan of action?"

"We need food and alcohol for Alicia's scratch - water's not enough to ensure no infection." Nick opened the passenger's door, talking to Troy over the top of the car. "The main plan's the same: if she's alive, she won't leave until she finds Alicia. We need to find her before proctors do."

They all got back in the car and drove a bit further down the river before Alicia ventured outside to talk to the locals, asking if anyone had seen a woman with her mom's looks after the dam collapsed. Troy and Nick stayed close by, and she could feel their eyes on her back as she moved through the dissipating throng of people collecting water.

No one she came across had any information that might help, and with every goodbye uttered, her hope dimmed until there was little left but quiet despair.

As the sun snaked behind the horizon, bringing with it the light and warmth of the day, the three of them climbed back into the car once more, recognizing that it would be impossible to continue their search in the dark. Not to mention, highly dangerous.

Alicia leaned back in her seat, arms wrapped around herself. It wasn't as if it had been a cold day, but ever since her time in the water, she hadn't quite managed to get the warmth back in her bones. The long stay in damp clothes didn't help, either.

"Where do we go?" she asked once Troy's foot hit the gas and they were driving again.

As crowded as the stadium was with all sorts of weird folks and possibly proctors, Troy's first thought was to go back there as they'd have a better chance at decent medical attention or at least having someone with a medical eye check them out – check _Nick_ out. He'd been in the water quite a while, and although he appeared to be fine now, injuries – especially of the internal variety – could sneak up on you and sucker-punch you.

"Does anything feel broken on the two of you? Anything that might be a risk to infection?"

"Her cut," Nick repeated tiredly, leaning his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes. "Just park somewhere in the desert, we can sleep in the car. We'll move out with first light and look again."

"It's fine," Alicia argued, unable to worry much about her own miniscule injuries compared to those Mom might be suffering. She continued to gaze out the window as they drove, automatically searching for that pale blond hair that would stand out like a sore thumb in this environment. "And we won't find supplies in the desert."

Though it was possible exhaustion had set in where Nick was concerned, and he no longer felt food all that necessary. She wasn't even sure she could eat if they had any.

"There are supplies under the seats. Help yourself." Troy'd stored them there to keep them out of the sun and out of sight of prying eyes. Food was as much a commodity as guns, and people had been and would be killed for it for years to come. "I don't think we should stay out here. If by some unlucky chance the proctors men did survive and they start looking for us, we won't be able to defend ourselves properly. Especially you two."

"We're not crippled, Troy," Nick said in a lazy voice. "We're just tired, nothing new. So, unless you got a hunting cabin somewhere around here you can take us, it's just the desert we can do."

Alicia didn't immediately dive for the promised supplies, feeling she wouldn't be able to get anything in her, anyway. At least not until they stopped to make camp for the night.

"What did you see driving here?" she asked the two men up front. "On the road between the trading post and the dam. Anything that could give us some shelter?"

"Aside from the actual city? Nothing but sand," Troy stated thoughtfully. "But there is still time and we could backtrack, find somewhere to hole up. An abandoned house maybe or the dam itself. If any of you are willing to go back there? That might be our best bet. The safest. Those bikers went there for a reason, they didn't get it, and I doubt they're going to stick around to sit on a nest egg with no nest. I wouldn't if I was in their position."

Almost dozing, Nick considered the options sluggishly.

"Even if the dam is gone, they could still linger around it to search for us," he reasoned. "At any other day, I'd risk it, but tonight all three of us are tired, so we gotta play it safe. So, the dam and around the river, and the trading post – those are a no go."

"Let's backtrack, then," Alicia said after another moment of contemplation. Going back to the dam wasn't an enticing idea to her, even if it would potentially keep them closer to mom.

If Madison was still there.

"We can find somewhere that won't leave us out in the open. Sleep in shifts."

Troy liked Alicia's thinking. He gave a nod of agreement and continued the way they were headed, driving toward the city, attentive to any other vehicles or motorcycles that might be running this way. Thankfully, the night seemed to push everyone with something to lose toward the trading post, leaving them only to truly worry about being overrun by the infected.

That would change inside the city borders, and Troy wasn't entirely convinced that would be the smartest thing to do. They hardly knew who these bikers were and where else they could be. And, if what Troy did know about them was anything to go by, it was that they'd been all over the city.

They had a reputation, and they had rage.

Thirty minutes later, Troy pulled off the demarcated dirt road and headed further into the desert. He killed the engine, got out, waited on the dead that had followed them, and quickly delivered a killing blow.

"We should go the rest of the way on foot. If I remember correctly there are houses just outside the city. Shacks. If those bikers are even a little observant they'll know what our vehicle looks like, what we left it and how we'll arrive. Are either of you up to it? Or would you rather sit out here picking off everything and anything that'll be coming up on us during the night?"

Nick heaved a sigh and slipped out, then opened the trunk to get a knife. "If you still want that car with all that you stuffed in it, you need to hide it better. Out here is not good."

Alicia grabbed a few of the food items Troy had stored under the seats – protein bars and a large bottle of water. She stuffed them into a bag that still had some room it, along with the medical kit and an old blanket.

Nick finally pulled a hunting knife from under a bag and closed the trunk, locking the belt with the knife around his waist.

"If we were to stay in it, it'd be fine. But if we leave it out here, you can kiss your baby goodbye. I know you love traveling on foot with no supplies or guns, so I'm just sayin'."

He gave Otto a smirk he might have seen in the twilight or not, and snatched two bottles with water from the backseat when Alicia got out, handing one of them to her. She briefly contemplated indulging in a sip. In the end, she decided against it for now, worried it would make her sick again and slow down their progress.

Troy had a valid point. If anyone was lingering close by, they would be easily recognized by their vehicle. Not to mention the sound of the engine would draw attention.

But Nick wasn't entirely wrong in his assumptions, either. There were no guarantees the car would still be here, whole and unharmed, should they leave it behind.

Alicia looked between the two, pulling the strap of the bag onto her shoulder, awaiting Troy's input.

"Hide it how, Poet?" Troy teased, pleased that Nick was able to talk and didn't look to be in too much pain despite all that he'd endured. "With leaves? A bush? I know it's dark but take a look around. There's nothing to camouflage it with. This place, this entire backwater city is an open field and aside from the mountains, a crevasse I could sneak this baby into—which I have no idea what to find from here—I'm not sure it would matter. All we can hold onto is faith and hope it's still here in the morning. I'm willing to risk it to know we'll all be safe tonight, that nothing is going to creep up on us while you two are weak."

He reached into the back, plucked his rifle from the floor of the jeep, and slung the strap onto his shoulder, yanking up the seat cushions that Alicia had been seated on to take the extra packs of bullets. He stuffed them there in case anything were to happen.

After removing the keys from the ignition, he pocketed them and waited patiently. "So, what'll it be?"

Nick was grateful for the dark, because standing upright was a problem. Walking was a problem. Breathing was, too. But at least he could relax about his face that let it show every now and then. There was a crescent moon hidden behind clouds, so nature was on his side.

"It might be better to park it in the city if we're going there. There are lots of abandoned cars, what's one more."

He shrugged and started walking slowly, letting Troy decide while he took a swig from the bottle.

Alicia subtly shifted the bag on her shoulder. Its weight, though not all that heavy, still highlighted the aches and pains in her body. "Let's just bring the supplies we're able to carry and if worst comes to worst, we'll have to find ourselves a new car in the morning."

Now that it was dark, it was easier to admit how tired she was, and standing around here arguing didn't seem to do much good. She reached into the car to get the rest of the food and water, stuffing it into her bag along with a large forest green jacket she assumed belonged to Troy or one of his men.

"You've a point, Nick," Troy admitted, "but as I said before: If those guys keep as close an eye on the city as the gossip in the arena claims then they'll see the headlights coming a mile away. And unfortunately there is no way to stealth the vehicle. I'm with Alicia on this one. If we have to, we'll get a new ride." They had suffered with less, and the fact that they still had this one was a basic miracle.

Nick didn't object – he didn't really care much. It was going to be a pain to walk a mile or so they have to the city, but pain was in him to stay awhile, so he might as well get used to it.

Troy walked around to Nick's side, scanning him as best he could in the twilight. "Need a hand?"

Nick pulled the bag off Alicia's shoulder as he passed by her and slung it onto his, eliciting her groan of objection and an annoyed look at his retreating back.

"Let's just get there already," he said. There were two silhouettes ahead. The dead. He pointed for Troy. "Give them a hand."

Troy made quick work of the few walking corpses they met on the way, and for that, Alicia was grateful. She could still summon up the strength needed to protect them if need be. In fact, after the whole ordeal back at the ranch, she was more confident in her ability to stay standing during extreme pressure than ever. But it was nice to not have to pull the knife from her boot.

It was a longer walk than it could have been had they all been light on their feet. They went into the first hut on the outskirts that they scoped out and deemed okay. There were no dead inside, but neither was anything else. It was picked clean, even most of the furniture was gone.

Nick dropped the bag in the corner and slipped down the wall to sit on the floor.

Alicia opened her water bottle and dared a sip. It hurt going down, her throat still a little sore from earlier, but at least it didn't bring the nausea back.

She reached for the bag Nick had abandoned, opened it and pulled out the blanket she had packed. She threw it to her brother. He needed it most seeing as he had ditched his jacket from the water plant. She handed him one of the protein bars as well, hoping she could encourage him to eat something, and then slid to the floor beside him, heaving an exhausted sigh.

The bag remained open a few feet away, allowing Troy to help himself to whatever he needed.]

Troy watched the two get comfortable with one another and situated himself behind the door to act as a barricade, falling asleep within mere minutes.


	5. Chapter 5

**RIVER FLOWS NORTH — PART 3**

Morning came swiftly, filling the shelter with direct sunlight, turning the room into a hot box that made it almost unbearable to breathe.

Troy eased himself onto his elbows and blinked the lingering touch of sleep from his eyes, slowly sitting up to lean back against the closed door for support.

The Clark siblings were still asleep as far as he could tell, curled up against one another. He let them sleep for a while longer and then proceeded to move about the small space, searching through the few items the former inhabitants had left behind to see if there was anything they could use or would need. There was no food, no clothes, and from what he could tell, everything was absolute junk.

He got to his feet, picked up his rifle, and cautiously headed outside to relieve himself.

There were no solid dreams of nightmares Nick could recollect when Troy's shuffling around woke him. There had been water, and there had been the hot box he recalled from another vision. There have been snippets of what had happened on the bridge between him and the proctors. All a jumble of images and words.

Nick shifted subtly, to not wake Alicia a little while longer, wincing mutely at the intensified pains inside him, and snuck out after Troy.

Otto was zipping his fly and all but jumped when Nick came out. A few dead walked aimlessly in the distance down the road. More were unseen from this vantage point.

"You slept okay?" Nick asked quietly. "Passed out like a dead last night."

Troy took a short step away from where he'd pissed against the side of the small shack, eyeing the dead in the distance. He didn't suppose they'd picked up on their scent yet because they weren't rushing toward them and were doing their every way dance of pointlessness, but he fought the instinct to put them down anyway – to clear them out.

Better safe than sorry was the way he liked to work. The way he liked things done.

"As decently as to be expected," he supplied in a similar tone, smiling, giving Nick a once-over in the brightness of the morning. The sun hadn't even hit its full peak yet. Clark had bruises on his face, shades that hadn't been there the previous day and made him look as if he'd taken a literal tumble in a giant washing machine. "Are you okay? How are you uh… feeling?"

Nick shrugged listlessly. "Like I've been hit by a truck. I'm fine. I can walk, I can talk, I can protect myself. 'S all good. We need to get going. After a minute."

He strolled for the back of the house to do what Troy had done, and cast a passing glance at him, smirking.

"Don't fight your urges, take 'em out. We'll be ready in a sec."

Troy smirked slightly and observed him for any signs of a limp as he disappeared around the corner to take care of his own business. Troy saw the slight compensation in Nick's walk—indication that he was still experiencing pain somewhere—but let him have for now. He had his pride, he had his sister and he had a mission.

Alicia woke to a faceful of dirt floor, having slid down against the wall after Nick moved. Momentarily befuddled, she pushed herself up on one elbow, brushing soil from one side of her face, and took a look at her surroundings. She was alone.

Urgently, she got to her feet in the blazing heat, feeling like she was close to suffocating from the lack of fresh air, and headed outside, squinting into the rising sun.

Troy was the first thing she saw, his hair ruffled by sleep and his rifle hanging from his shoulder.

"Where's Nick?"

"Taking a leak," Troy retorted, gesturing to the spot he'd been a second ago, giving her the same studious treatment he had her brother. She forged better than he had, but the bruise around the cut on her forehead was ugly as all hell. "You need to, too? If so, I'll uh… I'll stand guard."

Alicia instinctively cast a quick glance in the direction Troy pointed out, assuming Nick had gone down the side of the shack. Her eyes narrowed slightly at his following suggestion, ever-so-suspicious and wondering whether his offer was genuine or some sort of twisted prank. For some reason, the mental image of Troy jumping out of nowhere to push her over while she was crouched and vulnerable played across her mind. Probably not likely.

"Stay," she responded a little awkwardly before she turned and made her way to the opposite side Nick had chosen to take care of business.

Troy could see a series of emotions playing across her face and when she spoke, it was like an owner to a loyal pet. He supposed he could take offense but it was too early for that and somehow, without even a word, she'd made the thing twenty times more awkward than it should have been. He turned away from her, distancing himself from the hut slightly, back turned to the both of them, eyeing the dead in the distance almost praying they'd attack now just to wipe this sudden stench of weirdness off him.

Nick chuckled to himself as their short but colorful conversation reached him. He zipped up and strolled for the front yard, watching Troy hurrying toward the dead on the road.

"How you feeling?" Nick asked as soon as Alicia approached and he assessed her. She didn't seem all that rested, but he guessed he looked no better himself.

"I'm fine," she said, noting the bruises now decorating his face, making her wince. "You look like shit."

She was sure, in truth, they all did. No one really looked all that good these days. Too much stress and horror, not enough rest and happiness.

"How's your ribs?" He hadn't complained about them yesterday, but seeing as they had both received similar treatments, she assumed his was aching, as well.

Nick narrowed his eyes a little at the question, wondering whether they were truly seeing through all his efforts of acting fine or she had her own problems with that.

"Not coughing up blood or anything, so it must be a good sign," he said, adding a smile to indicate a joke. "Don't worry about me, I must've filled my dying quota for at least another week."

That wasn't gonna happen. The not worrying part. But she wasn't going to baby him, either. She hadn't quite reached Mom-status yet. "Let's hope so."

He returned to the house to roll up her blanket and get the bag so they could start back to see if the car was still where they had left it.

She followed him inside, a little reluctant due to the heat, and reclaimed her water bottle to have a few sips. The water was warm but they couldn't afford to be picky.

Strange to think this time yesterday, she had just finished up breakfast with Diana. Alicia hoped she was okay. That Eddie and the proctor boys hadn't taken advantage of her vulnerable state.

"Strange how so many crazy things can happen in one day," she murmured in thought, screwing the cap back on her bottle. "I can't remember the last time I felt bored."

Nick looked at her over his shoulder, stuffing the blanket into the bag. "Anyone would take bored over petrified or trying to not die after getting into another pickle," he said, and held on to the wall as he straightened up, hiding the wince from Alicia's eyes. "Boredom is truly a rare gem these days. You miss it?"

She shrugged, moving to stow her bottle in the bag he was holding. "There are things I miss more. Like sleeping without my boots on. Even on the ranch, I rarely took them off. Just in case, you know?"

He doubted she kept them on while sleeping at Jake's, which wasn't all that rare, but he didn't remind her.

"I do. It seems like a non-issue, but having no place to feel that safe is what truly sucks."

He led the way outside, seeking Troy out with his eyes as he took the bottle for a sip or two. It was finished, and Nick pushed it back into the bag in case they needed it later to refill.

"You never got to that cabin, did you?"

Alicia followed his gaze further down the street to see the youngest Otto dispose of a few infected.

"No," she admitted, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. "I probably would have made it there by last night if I hadn't chosen to give this girl I met a ride to the trading post."

"A girl," he repeated, and regarded her. "And then what happened?"

"On the way there a car rammed into ours. Some assholes trying to loot us, I suppose." Or worse. They hadn't truly had time to make their intentions clear. "The girl, Diana, her name's Diana, her leg broke in the collision. It was really bad, so when we finally made it to the trading post we had to seek medical help. We found this doctor named Eddie who managed to set her leg and make her a cast. While he worked, we got to talking and I mentioned I had volunteered at the hospital before the world went to shit. He asked me if I would be willing to assist him with a surgery. I was reluctant, but he did help me after all, and I wanted to repay the favor.

"The 'patient' turned out to be a man named Proctor John."

She paused to give Nick a significant look, highlighting the irony that had reunited them.

He mulled it over, and found a slight relief in her association with John being truly that of a nurse that he somehow dragged away with him.

Was it all? Just a surgery and a whim to take a detour?

"He didn't let you go after that, I assume?"

"I didn't follow him out of the kindness of my heart." She shot her brother a small smile. "When we met he was in a wheelchair. He had a tumor pressing on his spine and it was paralyzing him. Eddie was tasked with removing it. John refused anesthesia of any kind, so my job was to keep him from moving while Eddie cut him open. If the operation failed, they would kill Eddie and me both.

"But it was a success. And no, he didn't let me go. He brought me… I guess to change his bandages, since that's what I ended up doing while his men rounded up the rest of the workers. He saw that I recognized Strand and informed me of the deal that had been made to save Mom, the two of us. I didn't know you were there until they hauled you all into the office." She shrugged. "Anyway, John informed me that the deal with Strand was off because he didn't uphold his end of it. So, I made a deal of my own. John ensured me Mom would be spared if I went with him to Texas. He's planning to set up a trading route between here and there. I took the deal."

Remembering the condescending manner and the ease as John ordered them all dead made Nick sick to his stomach. He felt sorry he didn't make sure John went down with the dam. But then again, there was that boat holding his family – Nick's own damn deal that went south.

"I guess I ruined your trip to Texas with kind Uncle John," he murmured, and forced a smile for her sake. "We'll have to be careful from here to Texas, then. Barely that was any close to a big number of his people who died on the dam. If he survived, he's gonna be a permanent problem until he forgets about us. Which might never happen."

She couldn't help but laugh, and she was happy to find some humor among all the misery. "I forgive you. I don't think I would have liked Texas very much. I stood out like a sore thumb with all those bikers. I don't even own anything leather.

"And you're right. He founded the motorcycle club before the outbreak and now has chapters serving under him all along the Mexican-American border. They're setting up trading posts from the Pacific Coast to the Mexican Gulf. Which means it's likely we might run into them again."

A potential meeting she very much dreaded.

"Thankfully, most of those who saw our faces are dead now, so it leaves just John and one or two of his men that got out. He's not the kind of boss who goes everywhere himself, so we might be fine until we run into him directly."

Nick shrugged, eyeing her.

"We only need to find mom and warn her to get out of his possible way, and then we lay low and maybe move to a state with no proctors. We'll see how it goes. Just need to find her first."

It was nice that he already included her in his future plans. Despite his earlier offer, she hadn't been entirely certain he wanted to. She assumed she'd be a drag on his time with Troy, like when they were kids and Alicia would follow him everywhere he went. It was never cool to have your little sister in tow while you were trying to fit in with the older boys in the neighborhood. But perhaps it wasn't like that anymore.

Nick thought back to how they got to the ranch. It seemed like forever ago.

"That time on the Villa when I went to search for Travis for her," he murmured, watching Troy take a swing at another walker. "I did find him. He found Chris and chose to stay with him. Asked me to tell her I didn't find him… and so I did. He said his son needed him. I think he was scared to bring him back to be with us. I wonder if it woulda turned out better if he did come back with me."

Her brow furrowed slightly in thought, and the memories Nick's words brought to mind. "I don't think it would have mattered. You still wouldn't have come with us after what Mom did, right?"

He scowled in confusion, skimming through the events of that night. He remembered seeing the fire and immediately assuming it had to do with mom, but then they said differently.

He stared at his sister, perplexed. "Daniel started the fire."

It was only back at the hotel when Alicia truly understood Nick's reasons for leaving them. Leaving _her_. But the way he looked at her now had her doubting everything again. "Yes, Daniel started the fire," she parroted. "But Mom–"

When Troy returned, the two appeared to be having another heavy-duty conversation, one he assumed was probably too early for the morning and was following the two around like a plague. Near-death experiences allowed you to get a lot of shit off your chest.

"Everyone okay? Ready to go?" he interjected cheerfully.

Troy's arrival made Alicia fall silent. She looked between the two, uncertain if it was wise to potentially reveal something awful Mom had done now that they were about to go look for her.

"Yeah," Alicia said, taking the bag from Nick and hauling it onto her shoulder. "Let's go."

Nick saw Troy, heard him say something along the lines of We should get going, but he couldn't tear his eyes off Alicia. She pulled the bag off his shoulder and he didn't move, his mind spinning around her insinuations he couldn't understand.

 _After what mom did… But mom… But mom… Mom…_

"Alicia," Nick uttered, feeling like something inside his aching chest was being slowly wrenched out by a horrid hunch. "What happened at the Villa?"

Alicia paused in her tracks, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue before she turned her gaze back to her brother. "I overheard Mom telling Travis…" she began, hesitation clinging to every word, "that she locked Celia in the cellar with all the infected."

His eyes narrowed; Nick couldn't comprehend what she had just said. He stood staring at her dumbly, trying to wrap his mind around the words and get to the meaning. It didn't sound right. It couldn't be right. It couldn't be at all.

"Why?" he heard himself ask. It was like being in a nightmare and out of control. His own voice was alien and hollow, he didn't feel his mouth move. A brief recollection of some Bible snippet swept through his mind: about Lot's wife who disobeyed God and looked back over her shoulder at Sodom as it burned, and turned into a pillar of salt.

Nick physically felt himself becoming that pillar, while inside of him, there was a storm of pain.

Nick hadn't known, Alicia realized. He hadn't known how badly Mom had betrayed him, and it killed her that she had to be the one to tell him. It pissed her off. Why did she have to be the one to break Nick's heart when it was not her doing?

She swallowed, shifting the bag on her shoulder in an attempt to get more comfortable as she closed the space between them.

"She said it was to protect you," Alicia confessed, looking up at him with a grim knowing. "But we both know the real reason. She felt threatened."

That was the final, hard blow with a ragged, rusty blade into the heart. She stabbed it in and twisted, slowly, until there was nothing left to beat.

A lump in his throat blocked the air, like a rotting tumor, and spilled more pain down into his chest. Nick staggered back a step, then two from Alicia, no longer seeing her or anything else around. He could no longer think, his brain was stuck on the same phrase, repeating it over and over like in a world gone mad.

 _To protect you… to protect you… to protect you…_

His mother's face flashed in his head, her hammer pointing at Troy, but her eyes boring into him to convince, to bend, to break and make him see her way that was _the only_ right in the world.

'All I ever did was to protect you. You can't judge me! You can't judge a mother for protecting her children. I had no choice!'

Nick sucked in a short, painful breath, wheezing, then another, feeling dizzy and almost dying. He closed his eyes to try and grasp at reality, at what he had to do now, where he had to go, but all he could see was the Villa engulfed in flames.

He backed away, as if he could no longer stand her presence, and though it hurt, Alicia couldn't blame him for it.

"I thought you knew. I thought that's why you left…" she murmured, though she was not sure Nick heard her. He looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack, struggling for breath, to remain on his feet.

She dropped the bag to the ground between her and Troy and took a few steps forward, hands hovering at Nick's side to support his weight in case he lost balance.

"Nick, I'm so sorry."

It was desperately hard to breathe and his heart was thrashing in his ears. Nick could barely hear anything, although he was aware of Alicia's voice somewhere near. He just couldn't respond. He no longer believed he could make a sound, and he couldn't let her touch him because then he would crumble to the ground and never get up.

He shook his head, forcing himself to open his eyes. The light gave a bright flash, and then the terrain started to seep through. He sucked in another shallow breath of pain and started walking in the direction the car should be if it was still there.

There was still a raging fire blaring inside his skull. _I might be going mad_ , he thought briefly. This was it. He was going mad, and it wasn't some weird, impossible things happening around him like back in LA.

It was reality, the truth of it, the darkest, deepest, most horrific truth that was driving him insane. It was real, what she did. A fact. Like that pillar of salt standing in the Israel desert somewhere, reminding everyone how dangerous it is to find out the truth about things you keep wondering about.

Alicia started ahead but before Troy could join her or nudge Nick along, they appeared to fall into their unfinished business, pushing him into the shadows temporarily to absorb everything as he always did.

 _Madison killed someone else?_

Someone else important enough to Nick to make him look as though he lost a loved one?

So much for noble and doing what she had to to protect her family. He guessed that was why, unlike them, he admired certain aspects of her personality and thought she understood him, why he had constantly believed that she did. Troy wondered if she'd ever been honest, if anything she'd said to him, anything she'd supported was actually true or if she was only aiming for her own means. He knew it was the latter, he'd seen and experienced the evidence, but part of him at least trusted — from what he knew and had observed of humanity — that it was more than that. That they were two very similar beasts.

Troy reached down and picked up the bag Alicia had dropped in attempt to console her brother, and steadily fell into line behind them.

* * *

Alicia didn't feel particularly guilty about allowing Troy to carry the bag along with his collection of weapons. If he wanted to play the beast of burden, she'd let him. But she was worried about her brother. Even as they trekked across the dusty field back to the car, he looked as though she had just slapped the life out of him. She gave him some space, walking in silence until Troy pointed out the outline of the Jeep and trotted towards it enthusiastically. Where did he get all that energy from?

"And it's still there," he chimed conversationally, satisfied that another thing appeared to be going right this morning and that it was a positive sign to what he assumed was going to be a hell of a long day.

He dumped the bag he was carrying into the backseat, checking the tires, water and fuel respectfully to make sure some bandito high on life didn't find it in the middle of the night and tamper with it.

"Nick?" Alicia caught up with her brother once they were alone again, eyeing him carefully. "Are you okay?"

For a long time, Nick was just a machine that moved forward, squealing its rusty joints and gears. It took forever until the storm around his head started to exhaust itself, and he saw a dead desert it left behind.

In his former life, he had read about Tarot cards. The book was old and used, it belonged to Gloria's grandmother. Gloria thought it was funny, but Nick somehow didn't share the idea. There were pictures of different versions, and some engraved themselves into his intoxicated memory.

The image of The Tower engulfed in flames frightened him back then. He had stared at it for an hour, unable to perceive how it could have scared him so. People were falling down, throwing themselves out of its windows, their mouths gaping in mute screams.

Only Nick had heard those screams. He saw the flames leap and devour the tower like some Biblical apocalypse.

And then, there was The Star. Representing hope after everything old had been destroyed. It shone down at the waste and ruins of the Tower, some peace after the storm.

Gloria would have appreciated the cosmic irony of his mental connections.

In his story, however, there was no Star. No hope.

Just the ruins.

Alicia's cautious voice pulled him from the murky waters of his inner workings. He saw the car, Troy's back as he headed for it like an impatient lover on a long-awaited date, and he saw Alicia's face, worried, wounded.

She didn't deserve his pulling away. But she didn't deserve placating or lying, either. No more.

Nick shook his head subtly once, stopping to wait for Troy to start his jeep.

"No," he mustered in a quiet, husky voice.

Alicia nodded in understanding. She hadn't expected him to be okay, but it was one of those questions you'd ask anyway. Because it was an opener, a way in.

"What can I do?"

In the distance, Troy had busied himself with the Jeep, checking it over, loading their stuff in the back.

Troy checked the fuel gauge as he turned on the ignition. If they could have stopped to refuel before heading to the dam the day before, he would have more, but there wasn't time.

A stupid mistake in an apocalypse.

Like many he'd made over the course of the last few months and since meeting Madison.

Everything else was fine and would get them through the day sufficiently. He climbed into the driver's seat, turning off the ignition while he waited, giving them time to finish their talk and to join him.

She swallowed, studying Nick. "You still want to find her, right?"

He read distress on her face. She didn't know what to do, and it hurt him to be the reason, but he couldn't help any of it just yet. He needed time to start feeling again. He could only hope he would, because for now, he felt lost somewhere in a thick veil of mist; everything was grey and lifeless.

"We will," he nodded and went to the passenger's seat.

Alicia didn't know how to comfort him, and reckoned there wasn't actually much she could do to help the situation at current. He needed to process, like she needed to process what Nick had told her about Troy. And she would. Once they found Mom, and Alicia knew she was safe.

"Back to the dam?" Troy asked.

"Yeah," Alicia replied as she climbed in the back, closing the door on her side and resting heavily in her seat. It was going to be another long, long day.

* * *

People were still collecting water. Nick wondered if they had slept at all.

The dam's ruins reminded him of The Star card. He had been pushing all the Villa thoughts away during the drive, but hadn't been very successful. He kept seeing Celia's reserved, wise smile as she sipped wine while talking to him. He saw her eyes, the way they glistened when she saw her risen son walking next to Nick.

Nick couldn't believe it, and yet, he could. And that was the grimmest, scariest thought of all. Deep down, he believed. He _knew_ why. It was all written in his mother's eyes.

They searched the same streets, asked around, widened their search, but found out nothing useful. A few people gave them false leads that brought them nowhere near their mother or Strand. However, one of the elder Mexicans waved a hand further down the stream and told Alicia he had seen a tall black man walking that way. He didn't talk to that man but heard him speak Spanish.

It sounded like Strand. They needed to drive further along the river shore.

It took them four hours, a lot of clueless people, a brief snack break and a short trade for half a bottle of some Mexican moonshine in exchange of one of Troy's pistols. He was far from happy, but they finally cleaned Alicia's scratch with alcohol and renewed the band-aids.

And then, they spotted a familiar back with blond hair. Strand stood by her translating, his hands flying up and down to help the descriptions.

Neither saw them. Alicia's hand had Nick's forearm in a vice grip. She was breathing rapidly, endless relief all over her face.

Thankfully finding Madison wasn't as hard as Troy had anticipated, and she wasn't dead. Not because he cared about the latter but because he suspected the news of her passing now would further break Nick. There was a lot of unresolved issues between the two and a lack of closure – well, that could destroy a person.

He remained seated in the jeep, sipping at a bottle of water, eating of the last protein bars they had left, patiently waiting for the scene to play out and the siblings to take the next step or whatever they had planned.

Nick didn't know what he felt. There might be some relief, too. He still didn't want her to die. He would never want it. That hadn't changed. He didn't want to go with her. That hadn't changed, either.

But she needed to be warned about the proctors. That hadn't changed.

Alicia's initial reaction was relief – a warm sensation that temporarily brushed all the aches and pains away, making her feel light on her feet and almost dizzy with euphoria.

But soon after, came the uncertainty and doubt. She knew the moment they let her see them, she would run to them, wrap them in her embrace, and tell them how worried their absence had made her. And then, she would tell them the new plan of action, possibly to get in the car if she and Strand had already found a vehicle, and that would be it. Back to the same old Madison-run show.

Alicia didn't want that.

And what was worse: she didn't know if she would be able to fight Mom's hold on her. If she would be able to break free from Mom a second time.

"I'm coming with you," Alicia told Nick, finally releasing her hold on his arm. "If the invitation is still valid, I wanna go with you."

Nick tore his eyes from mom and Strand to look at Alicia when her hand slipped off his. His lips twitched in a faint and failed attempt at a smile; he cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin affectionately.

"We should do this first," he said quietly, and started toward them, leaving Alicia to decide if she wanted to come or stay behind.

He had to do this, either way. He braced himself as he went.

Alicia almost reached out to pull Nick back, but didn't. Instead, she took a deep breath and followed. She couldn't let him do this alone.

Strand caught sight of them first, and as expected, when he pointed them out to Madison, she came running, almost knocking over a little old lady carrying a too heavy container of water. She flung her arms around Nick, hugging him to her, and pulled Alicia in, as well, once she was within her reach. Alicia hugged her back.

"Oh my God," Madison breathed, and Alicia could tell she was on the verge of tears. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Once they pulled away from one another, Alicia could see that Madison, too, had received her fair share of bruises. The same went for Strand, though his were harder to immediately spot due to his dark skin. It was a miracle really that they had all survived.

"We're fine," Alicia ensured her, though she wasn't certain that was the case at all.

Strand stood behind, smiling, seeming genuinely pleased to see the kids in one piece. Madison looked at them, from one to another, tears welling up in her eyes. Like she couldn't get enough of this happy moment, of relief and gratitude to whatever might have served the purpose of helping them survive.

"Are you sure you okay?" she asked, touching Alicia's bruised scratch with her fingers, wincing as if it pained her and not her younger child. "We were looking all over for you. When I got out of the water, it was too far down from the dam, and I only found Strand by nightfall."

"Asking around wasn't getting us too far," he added from where he stepped away to give Clarks a semblance of space.

"I'm so happy you're alive," Madison said, in almost a whimper, pulling her kids to her once again, planting a kiss to each their temple.

When she let go, Nick said: "You need to get out of here right now. Proctor John survived, along with one or two of his loyal guard dogs. If he was pissed before, now he must be enraged. He'd be looking for any of us. He's preparing to stretch his net along the coast up to Texas, so we better steer clear and keep our eyes peeled for any of his gang. I imagine he's a rather vengeful man."

"You imagine right," Strand said. He looked spooked. "Let's not waste our time, then."

"All right, let's go," Madison said, and made a step after Strand, but then frowned and stopped, seeing the siblings weren't moving. Her frown deepened at their solemn faces. "What is it? What's going on?"

"I'm not coming," Nick said. He jerked a thumb back over his shoulder. "Troy's waiting in the car. We're going on our own."

Her face expressed a heartbreak, and then there was a ghost of the familiar disappointment beneath it. It reached out and cut Nick. And _that_ he did feel.

She battled herself for a moment, then said: "He can go with us. Let's just go and discuss it late—"

Nick was smiling, and it stopped her. He imagined it should seem misplaced, and it was. There was no humor in it. "I told you back at the dam, Mom. I'm not gonna talk about it, or argue, or discuss anything. I just wanna go. Please. Don't try to convince me of anything or pour some more shit on him. It's not gonna cha—"

"You mean I shouldn't remind you who he is? WHAT he is?" Her face pinched with self-righteous indignation. "What you've chosen over your family? Over your mother, your sister? Your blood? He's a killer, Nick. He doesn't feel anything for you. He'll throw you under the bus the first chance he gets—"

"He's been pulling me from under all the busses all this time, mom," he countered, unwilling to raise his voice the way she did. Unwilling to play into it and make a scene when people carrying water from the river were already shooting glances their way. Strand was hovering nearby, scowling and darting ganders around to make sure no proctors were going to shoot him any moment.

"Yes, while it's convenient to him," she said, her eyes sharp like glass shards. "He's insane, Nick. He's not thinking straight whenever new rush of adrenaline shoots up in his head, and he's gonna get you killed or even do it himself while you sleep. Like he almost did to me when we were out scouting."

Nick narrowed his eyes, momentarily taken aback by the confession she had never shared before – conveniently so while she was trying to make a puppet out of Troy.

Nick heaved a sigh. "He had his chances. But all he did was stopped a knife from stabbing me in the chest with his hand, and then taking out proctors around me so they wouldn't kill me before I could press that button."

"It was Walker," she announced with bitter irony, her eyes saying 'How much more stupid can he make you'. "He stayed behind to cover for us."

"So did Troy," he said. "And it wasn't Walker who pulled me and Alicia from the water. It was Troy. And it's not about him, mom. I just wanna go my way now. I need it. I can see you don't understand, but maybe you can accept it someday. I just need to be away for now."

She sighed, vexed and frustrated. "We just found each other after something we shouldn't have survived, Nick. You can't just walk away from me. We're a family. You're my children. Please, Nick, we can't be separated. You'll be sorry if you go. I know it, trust me, I know. You will regret it, but it could be too late."

He smiled, took her face in his hands and planted a long, tender kiss on her forehead, then stepped back. "I love you, Mom. But I have to take my chances here. You should leave now. Be safe."

He cast a glance at Alicia, as if to say she could do her own farewells now. "I'll be at the car," he mouthed and started to walk away.

"If you think he loves you, Nick, he doesn't!" Madison sent after him. He heard despair in her voice. He felt it grasp at him as he went. "He never will. He'll betray you. Please, Nick."

He kept going, his eyes locked on the car where Troy sat. It was harder to breathe. But it was good to have it done.

* * *

Troy couldn't hear what they were saying from where he sat but if he was truly honest — despite his obsessive curiosity — he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

A fleeting thought that diminished and peaked when she shouted at Nick's back, making whatever parting words they'd had as clear as day.

Madison didn't like Troy and didn't trust him. He'd known that from the go, when she first met him and she'd had good reason for that mistrust back then – they all did – but after everything, after what he'd done for her, what she'd done for him and to him, they still hadn't hit an understanding?

When Nick was close, Troy reached over and pulled the handle on the passenger's door for him, offering him a protein bar once Clark climbed in, along with the last of their remaining water.

"Looks like that went well. You okay?"

Nick slumped in the seat with a wince and pulled his door closed. He was anything but hungry, but accepted the bar and water, nonetheless. He took a sip and screwed the cap back on.

"She said you'll never love me, but yeah, I'm okay."

He inspected the protein bar, then put it on the dashboard.

Troy furrowed his eyebrows, swallowing back an almost awkward laugh that wanted to bubble to the surface. If there was one thing he had come to realize in these last few days, it was that Madison didn't know him at all – not as he'd assumed or needed – and downplayed every thought or word that came out of his mouth. She knew exactly how he felt about her son, he'd told her as much the same day she tried to kill him.

"I do love you," he stated, straight-faced and serious, unsure of why he needed to make that truth known when the word itself and its sentiment were contrived. "I know it's a bit weird, and that maybe, with everything that's been happening and with what you know that you might think it's unbelievable. But uh… I do. You're a good friend. A brother."

Nick was expecting him to burst out laughing before he jibed back with some silly insinuation like he did before many times.

He wasn't prepared for what came out of Troy instead at all. It blew all the thoughts out of Nick's head leaving an utterly white blank page of nothing. He just stared at Otto, lost for any proper response.

He wasn't surprised much by this admission of seeing him as a friend and maybe even a brother to replace what Troy had lost. But Nick preferred it non-spoken, something neither needed to confess.

"She just… seemed to be getting some wry ideas concerning why I was leaving with you," he said slowly, feeling all kinds of awkward. "So she said that… You shoulda laughed. But since you rarely do what I expect from you, Otto, all that you said… I know. I don't need to hear it to know."

"As long as you know," Troy stated with the same tone of delivery. He didn't want Nick thinking that the fact that Troy was accepting his crazy was because of some weird need to stick it to his mother. What they had, their friendship, it meant something even if Troy wasn't always good at expressing that.

He should have let Jake know that, he'd tried at times, but something or someone always got in the way of that, and besides, it was complicated.

Also, what Troy did behind the scenes didn't always help matters.

"By the way, I didn't know you swung that way. I thought you were all about the ladies."

Nick rolled his eyes but was unable to hold back an amused chuckle, shaking his head. The fact that Nick laughed was enough to make Troy crack a smile.

"That was the punch line 'cause I don't swing that way," Nick said. "I really hope you don't, either, but I won't judge." He gave Troy a smirk, then replicated his sincere expression, raising his hands: "As long as you know."

* * *

Madison stared at Nick's retreating form for a long time, her eyes prickling with the promise of tears.

"Madison, we have to go," Strand called from behind her, backtracking a few steps in his urgency.

She heaved a sorrowful sigh and turned on her heel, slowly trekking behind him. She stopped and looked back over her shoulder when she realized Alicia wasn't following.

"Alicia?"

She shook her head. "I'm not coming either, Mom."

Madison stared at her in much the same manner she had Nick, disbelieving, wounded, and with rising frustration.

"Nothing's changed since the ranch," Alicia added.

Madison briefly closed her eyes, and Alicia could tell she was tempted to pinch the bridge of her nose as if she had an oncoming headache. A move she'd always pulled when Alicia was slow to put away her laundry or do the dishes after dinner. A move that in the past had the power to incite Alicia with guilt. Not so much this time.

"It _is_ different," Madison insisted. "You don't have any rations this time, Alicia. No car, no weapons. You won't make it on your own."

"I got Nick," she shrugged, and watched as her mother's gaze darkened and turned to the Jeep behind them.

If looks could kill…

"You're going with Nick? With Troy?! You can't trust him, Alicia!" She was shouting again, making Strand grimace and crouch slightly where he had stopped, as if he worried her voice would attract bullets.

"I know," Alicia said. "I don't." But she didn't entirely trust Madison, anymore, either. And that was part of the problem.

"Then don't go with him!"

Madison caught the echo of her own voice and forcefully reeled herself in, closing the space between them to take her daughter's hands in hers. She softened, her tone imploring.

"Troy is not safe. You don't know all the things he's done."

"It's not about Troy," Alicia replied, her frustration rising as well. "It's about me. I told you, I don't want to live in fear anymore. I don't want to chase after something better, because I don't think it exists anymore. I know this new world is hard for you because it's unpredictable and chaotic, and so completely different from the life we had. It scares you. It scares me, too. But we want different things, Mom. We need different things to thrive. And I don't want to do things your way anymore. I can't."

Madison narrowed her eyes at Alicia, her voice soft and low, but Alicia could sense the anger there.

"I've had to make some very hard decisions, Alicia. To ensure our survival. And because I made those decisions, you've had the luxury of not having to. Don't fool yourself into thinking it will be easier on your own, that you can play this game with a clear conscience. It doesn't work like that. I've protected you."

Alicia almost laughed, but there was no humor there. Only sadness.

"It's not a game, Mom. And I understand that you've been trying to keep us safe, keep me safe. But all the lies, all the secrets, the game-playing… You're not protecting me. You're making me helpless."

They both fell silent. Alicia thought her words had taken her mother by surprise. Madison certainly looked it. They stared at each other for a long time, and Alicia quietly tried to make her understand, to accept her decision.

Madison sniffled a little, quickly wiped her nose with her sleeve, and turned to Strand. "Victor, the map."

He hesitated a moment before making the walk back to them, withdrawing a folded map from his back pocket. He handed it to Madison, and she opened it, searched for something.

"Here," she said, pointing to a marker on the map. "There's a gas station, about four hours from here. Two days from now at noon, Strand and I will be there."

Strand groaned quietly, close to rolling his eyes. Madison ignored him.

"We'll be there. If you change your mind–" Alicia could tell Mom believed she would. "Come meet us, okay?"

Alicia knew she wouldn't come. Neither would Nick. But she nodded anyway, made a note of the marker and the road. She doubted Madison would let her go without another fight otherwise.

"Okay."

Madison handed the map back to Strand and pulled Alicia into a hug so tight it hurt. She kissed the top of her youngest child's head as Alicia slid her arms back around her mother.

"I love you so much, baby," Madison whispered.

"I love you too, Mom."

They parted. Alicia offered a small smile and an awkward wave at Strand, squeezed Mom's hand one last time, then turned and walked away.

* * *

Nick unscrewed the cap and took another sip of water, shooting a brief glance at Madison and Alicia. They seemed to be doing take two of the talk he'd just had.

"I told Alicia about the horde," he confessed. "I had to. Only the horde – not Jake. You better not revisit that subject, especially with the arguments you used on mom in the tunnels."

"You mean you told her what I did?" Troy asked, feeling irked and sort of betrayed. "That I spent two days gathering and walking them? When'd you do that? This morning? Last night? I guess I should be grateful she hasn't tried to bash my head in yet."

"What I told her was that mom tried to kill you for the ranch and the horde," Nick explained. "She connected the rest herself because she's been suspecting it all along, like many others. I didn't go into any details. She dashed after you with scissors from the med kit, I talked her down. She's still grieving, but she knows you saved my life and you pulled her out of the water. She knows that you came to warn me about the horde. She knows you lost your world with that ranch, too. She just needs time to grieve. Just try not to remind her about those things. She endured a hell of a lot because of what you did. She won't kill you for it – she's not my mom – but she's allowed to be hurt. Okay?"

Troy measured his reasons for spilling a secret that they'd been burying — at Nick's insistence — since Troy'd first rocked up and Nick had chosen not to kill him. Troy had asked and pleaded as twisted weariness weighed him down from the loss of his brother, he'd been more than prepared to eat that bullet and accept his fate.

Nick had shoved him out of that weak state of mind and thrust him back into reality, back into the same state that had always controlled Troy and taken care of the really emotional shit.

And then, it was smooth sailing and excitement.

That's what this life was.

At least most the time.

Troy leaned back in his seat and peered past Nick at Alicia who was starting toward them. She looked equally as broken as her brother had been a couple of minutes ago.

"Okay," he answered finally, offering a slow nod of agreement and acceptance. He'd do what he could, but even he knew that promises could easily be broken in the heat of the moment. "Now that you've found your mother and said your goodbyes. Any idea where you want to go next? You two have been getting quite a bit off your chests, do you have plans?"

Alicia didn't dare look back, worried there might be tears if she had to witness the devastation on Mom's face for one second longer. She climbed back in the car, understanding by the sudden silence between the two up front that they had either been talking about her, or something she was not supposed to know. It didn't matter.

She pulled one leg up on the seat with her to get more comfortable, freed the knife from her boot and carefully twirled it between her fingers, trying to get a feel for it. Chances were she'd have to make use of it sooner or later.

"All done."

"We ride to California and as far from the dam as we can," Nick answered Troy's question. "Better stay away from the coastline, since they plan on building their net there or something. So, it's up North we go. That good enough for now?"

Troy started up the ignition and cast curious a glance at Alicia in the rear-view mirror as she made herself comfortable, briefly wondering if she was planning to thrust the dagger she was toying with into the back of his skull.

He now knew she had a reason, that she had the truth, and despite Nick's assurances, Troy also knew the female Clarks had a will of their own. From what he'd seen and knew of Alicia's, hers was as fiery as her mother's, although less self-righteous in its flare. The true heroine of this story.

He waited a beat and then put the jeep into first, a lazy smile playing onto his lips.

"Back toward the states? That's perfect."


	6. Chapter 6

**RIVER FLOWS NORTH — PART 4**

Alicia didn't object to the destination her brother had in mind, and neither did Troy. Their location wouldn't matter much, anyway. The whole world was the same now in all its cruel and brutal glory.

She could already tell she wouldn't be able to handle the new knife as effortlessly as she had her last, but she would make do. And she would learn. She'd always been a quick study. Alicia kept her gaze on the weapon as she practiced, glad to have an excuse not to meet Troy's eyes in the rearview mirror.

"We're going to have to stop for fuel," Troy said. "We should definitely stop for more water and food. Do any of you know how to hunt? Deer, cougar. I know Nick tried to give it a whack once but he didn't get very far. How about you, Alicia?"

"Not really," she admitted, not overly excited at the prospect of facing a cougar. "I can fish with a rod," she continued after a while. "In theory, anyway."

"Fishing in theory can't be as productive as the actual fishing," Nick said lazily, letting his eyes close as he leaned back in the seat. "Given the drought down here, we might not have a chance to check and compare our theories. I'm sure deer and cougars try to stick close to water, too. Snakes, however, can be anywhere. I'd rather search the stores and houses, though, and leave all that excitement of tracking snakes and cougars to you."

"We're not driving back through town or any town for that matter – if we can help it," Troy stated, making sure they were clear he didn't want to risk running into the proctors. "These men, these people, they'll make a point of being everywhere. Especially if they're planning to expand their trade. They actually need trading goods for that."

Not that they didn't know that already and had probably figured as much.

"We need containers for water and fuel. We also need medicine. How much is left after last night?"

Alicia reached for the bag beside her and opened it, pulling the blanket and jacket out to do inventory.

"Two full bottles of water, in addition to the ones Nick and I started last night. One protein bar, some beef-jerky." She fished out the medical kit to have a glance inside. "There's still some gauze left, a few band-aids, some unidentified pills."

They were in a clear baggie. She assumed they were painkillers, but couldn't be sure. Nick would probably be able to identify them, though.

"And," she lifted the glass bottle they had purchased with Troy's gun earlier, "half a bottle of delightful moonshine."

"The bar's yours," Nick commented and pointed blindly toward the dashboard. "Mine's there and Troy's done and dusted. You can keep the moonshine, too. I'm not in the mood for a hangover tomorrow. I've met my limit of shitty for a week in advance."

Troy glanced at Nick shiftily as he offloaded the last of their food onto his sister without any consideration or hesitation to the fact that it could be split three ways. Was that the way it would be now? Alicia would be given the last handouts on principle? In Troy's world, you were forced to earn your place, to earn what you got and came into the party as an equal share. You had to in order to survive.

It wasn't a scenario appreciated or even got by many but Troy'd found those following him to be stronger for it – he was, wasn't he? He'd always believed that to be a big reason the ranch flourished for so long when the world had crumbled around it and become a mere ghost shell.

Nick reached under the seat, reclining it a tad, then struck a more comfortable pose, restraining his winces. It still hurt in a nasty way, like he had a cracked rib or maybe more of such. Not the best scenario, but he should be counting his blessings as it was.

After a bit, he dozed off.

They drove for some time on a dirt road flanked by nothing but sand, turning onto another less than twenty minutes later that ran alongside the outside of the city and along the beach.

Unlike most teens in the past who'd reveled in going to Mexico during summer, that wasn't a particular activity Troy indulged in, let alone experienced in the past despite Jake's very many trips since he turned sixteen. Troy'd just had no such interest—content with the farm, his own space, and his own people—and hadn't realized until this moment how compact the city was. How many homes, how many stores, and how many people needed to be taken care of.

As he viewed it now, it didn't surprise him that its population leaked into the states. It seemed inevitable, like rats who migrated at the first signs of trouble.

Troy was lost in his thinking, eyes glued to the roads and signs, wasted on every corner and peppering the streets like drunk tourists with nowhere to go.

He drove awhile longer and then slowed to a crawl as a grocery store came to view, a medium-sized building no bigger than a seven-eleven tucked between two abandoned restaurants.

He deviated off the road and drove in behind one of the bistros, cutting the engine as he pulled in tight behind it, getting out to take care of the dead alerted by their presence.

And why not?

They were on the run, sure, but they didn't have a time limit on when and where, and it seemed ill-conceived to bypass sources that could very well provide them with what they needed to keep them going for a couple days at a time – or even just a few more hours.

Alicia's appetite hadn't exactly returned since their whole ordeal at the dam, but she could tell her body was suffering from lack of nourishment. She grabbed the protein bar, tore at the wrapper and took a bite. It seemed to grow in her mouth the longer she chewed, but she managed to swallow it with some effort after a little while. She forced herself to take another bite, just to have something in her stomach and packed the rest away for later.

She was glad her brother was able to get some rest. He sure looked like he could use it.

She watched as Troy headed out to dispose of the walking dead. It seemed to be like a routine to him now.

She didn't want to wake Nick but was reluctant to leave him sleeping in the car in case trouble arose. She briefly contemplated her options, then got out, knife in hand, took care of a straggler that had deviated from Troy's group, and wiped the gore from her blade on the corpse's shirt.

"Jake's cabin," she said once Troy had finished. "Up in San Bernadino National Forest." He might have already been aware of it. She didn't know. But the way Jake had talked about the place, it seemed to have almost been a secret. "I was going to go there. Jake said there would be some supplies, grounds for hunting. Out of the way of the Proctors."

Alicia eyed Troy, slipping the knife into her back pocket for easy access.

"What do you think?"

Troy flicked the blood off his knife, reviewing the dead beneath his feet, feeling an innate urge to cut the wasted like a turkey at the mention of Jake's cabin.

He'd gone there for years with his friends during his college days. Place owned by their father and later bought over by Jake when he'd netted enough being a lawyer. A reward and one of the few things he'd done for himself. Troy'd never gone there himself – not since he was a kid – and he guessed in part Jake'd always preferred it that way.

Not that he ever said that aloud, but he didn't have to. Troy knew.

Jake dealt with all he could where Troy was concerned when it came to the ranch, stepping in between Jeremiah and his youngest as much as he could, letting Mike pick up the slack as they grew older.

"I think it's a good idea. From what I can remember there was a lot of hunting, a lot of water, cabins, a secure space—it would be the last place they'd look for us. Would Nick go for it? Or are you planning to make your own way there eventually?"

"I don't see why he wouldn't," Alicia replied, pleased that her idea wasn't immediately shut down and was taken into actual consideration. The thought of going to a place Jake considered a sanctuary wasn't exactly a temptation, especially if Troy was to join – his mere presence was a constant reminder of that awful day. But necessity trumped desire. It was the way it had to be now.

Troy stepped over the dead and took a slow walk in the direction of the grocery store, casting a passing look at the jeep where Nick appeared to be sleeping. "Are you going to stay with him?"

Alicia looked back over her shoulder at a still sleeping Nick. From what she saw it didn't seem likely he would wake on his own for a while yet. There was no more danger in sight, and it seemed unlikely anything could take them by surprise here. And yet… That's usually when shit hit the fan.

"Yeah, I'll stay," she said, leaning back against the car. "You can manage? Shout if you need backup?"

"I'll be fine," Troy supplied, grateful that she'd decided to stay and keep an eye on Nick while he slept. If she didn't, Troy would have. There was safety in numbers. "Is there anything you need specifically?" he asked, a polite means of waving a white flag and letting her know that even if she was pissed, they were all still in this together. "Girl things."

He'd done those runs many times over the last year and been requested more than one thing that might have made men tremble in their idealistic years. Hell, it was all just nature and necessity to him now. Like condoms and birth control, and like food it was the one thing you never overlooked.

His offer surprised Alicia. There was something highly comical about a military man being sent on a mission to procure feminine products. Didn't mean she didn't appreciate it.

"I wouldn't say no to a box of tampons if you come across one." She eyed the two dark restaurants on either side of the convenience store. Their restrooms would usually house dispensers for tampons, condoms, and one-use toothbrushes. If someone hadn't gotten to them yet, they might get lucky. "I'll do a sweep of the restaurants when you get back. Need to stretch my legs anyway."

"Sure thing," he said, giving a nod, strolling the rest of the way toward the grocery store. He flipped the knife in his hand and used the handle to knock on the back door, playing upon the surface like a drum until a series of distinctive groans rose from inside.

One of the dead mimicked the action from the other side, clumsy in its chorus and frantic.

He waited a beat and then tried the door, grateful to find that it opened with no hassle. Perhaps because someone had been there before or because the owners had fled in a hurry.

He used it as a shield and observed as six tumbled outside, squeezing past each other, clumsily shuffling to freedom and in search of Troy. When he was sure no others were set to join, he pushed the door closed with a bang and made work of disposing of them one by one as they returned to him.

Unlike most who were eager to wait this plague out and welcome the world back as it was before, he wasn't all that keen to swallow their former beliefs and moralities. Happy, content even, for this to go on and on until he ultimately joined his brother in the dirt. Not that he had any plans for that to be soon, but who knew what tomorrow would hold.

Troy approached the door again, opening it without hesitation this time, and quickly headed inside.

The wait outside was pleasantly uneventful, but of course, that gave Alicia's mind the time it needed to work up an alarming amount of concerns and guilty feelings. She looked back over her shoulder at a sleeping Nick, wondering how he was really faring after the whole Celia confession, and if it was something he'd ever get over. She worried he may try and take some of the blame onto himself, that his friendship with her was what had gotten her killed. It was wrong, but one always had such thoughts after someone died.

Troy returned thirty minutes later, carrying a cooler he'd stuffed with bottled water, an assortment of canned food, a couple packets of cheap Mexican cigarettes, a can opener and a small pot. Just enough to get them across the border.

"I didn't find any tampons," he remarked as he drew near, setting the cooler down, producing the pink box he had found of panty liners, offering them to her for inspection before loading it all into the back of the jeep.

It looked like a lot, a treasure to most, but in essence, it would only get them through two or three days.

Alicia threw her bottle back in the car and closed the door behind her. Her lips quirked ever so slightly at the box of panty liners he carried, but she didn't comment on why these would not do the same trick as tampons.

"Thanks." She handed them back his way so he could load his treasures into the car. "I'll take a look in there," she said, gesturing to the restaurant to the left and pushing away from the car. She didn't trust Troy, but it didn't feel likely he would try to hurt Nick in her absence. And she trusted Nick to turn him around should Troy decide to leave her behind here on one of his whims.

Alicia pulled her knife out as she walked, getting a good grip on it in case she'd need to use it.

The front doors had already been shattered, so there was no problem getting inside. This, of course, meant it was likely others had been here before them to clean the place out. Still, might as well check seeing as they were already here.

* * *

Dead leaves and sand littered the floor. It crunched under her boots as she walked, maneuvering through some overturned tables and chairs to get to the kitchen. She doubted she'd find something as wonderful as a bucketful of potato powder like last time.

She was right in her assumption. The kitchen storage had already been emptied of anything that could be considered edible. She did, however, find a few unopened packs of plastic cutlery under one of the rollaway counters, which she gathered and put in one of the large, empty food containers that had probably held fresh vegetables pre-apocalypse.

The container clanged loudly, hitting the floor once she opened the walk-in freezer to find one of the previous chefs. He was dead, but not as dead as she'd like him to be. He came at her, and she braced herself, driving her knife through his chin and up into his head. He stilled immediately.

She struggled slightly to free the blade from his skull, but managed eventually, wiping it clean on his white-ish uniform before she explored the freezer. It didn't hold much, but Alicia did find a packet of sausages and some sliced ham. Which was a rare treat these days unless you still had livestock.

She picked up the fallen container and put her frozen treats inside, carrying it on her hip like a makeshift basket as she made her way to the restrooms.

In the end, she came away with one and a half toilet rolls, five tampons, a nearly full bag of hand soap she ripped from the dispenser over the sink, and two pieces of gum meant to freshen one's breath.

* * *

Nick was still sleeping as Troy loaded the goodies into the backseat and slipped the liners into the cooler. There was no logical point in keeping their stuff scattered around because if push came to shove and they were forced to abandon ship, there was no way they were going to be able to grab everything, and at least this way they only had one focus.

He wanted to do the same with their ammo and weapons but he hadn't found a container to store them in, and with Alicia in the back, there wasn't exactly space. Overloading themselves would also bring more pain and interest. Attention that wasn't necessarily a good thing.

He closed the back door quietly and cast a look at his friend, turning to prop himself against the side of the jeep, patiently waiting on Alicia's return and ready to run in and help if need be.

Any reason to fight.

Unfortunately, she returned safely sometime later without a need for his assistance.

Alicia handed the frozen food items over to Troy so he could place them in his cooler with the rest of his haul. "We'll have to eat them before they spoil."

"Nice. Guess we know what we're having for lunch," he amended, opening the back door again, flipping up the cooler lid, and quickly transferring her goods to his.

When they were done, he gestured for the container she'd carried her stuff in and wiggled it through the door and onto the cooler, noting that, despite some of his reservations of having too much, it felt good being able to stock up and worry less about what they'd be eating for the next few days.

"If it gets too tin can in there for you we'll figure something else out and rearrange things," he said, snapping the lock on the door to prevent anything from falling out and closed the door.

She waved a hand as if to say "I'm fine" in response to his query about space, slipped her knife back into its sheath and found her seat.

He headed to climb in at the driver's door again. "Now we need fuel and jerry cans if we can find them in this sand pit."

His talk of jerry cans made Alicia remember a paper she had written on the subject of how jerry cans had helped the Allies win World War II. For a moment, nostalgia washed over her as the memory of sitting in her room at night, writing and researching with a hot mug of tea in hand, surfaced. Sentimental. And then, pissed off. How many useless things the school system had insisted they learn. She pushed the thought away as Troy got back in the car and pulled out onto the road. One glance at Nick indicated he was still asleep.

"Why didn't Mom and I end up in the cellar with the others?" she asked abruptly. "Back at the border. Why were we separated from the rest?"

A question she had pondered every now and then since it happened. At first, she had assumed they'd only put men down there. That for some reason, women received a gentler treatment. But upon learning about Luciana, that possibility went out the window.

So was it a race thing? Or had Troy's obsession with Madison started from the first moment he caught sight of her?

Troy hadn't expected that question, and he was pretty sure she wouldn't appreciate the answer but he'd decided to give it to her, anyway.

Why the hell not? He wasn't ashamed of what he did. He still wasn't. He'd learned a lot, and a lot of it had helped him understand not only what had happened but also more about himself.

Even if they viewed it as barbaric.

Besides, they weren't in a government-run area like Washington, but he was sure they were doing all kinds of testing, not only on the dead, but on the living, as well.

"You were white American. Female. Pretty. That isn't a collective we'd come across very often at the border. I told you that during your processing. Besides you weren't injured."

His answer, though not surprising, brought a sour taste to her mouth. It wasn't as if racism was something that had sprung up post-apocalypse, but she'd never seen it up close and ugly like this for herself.

Guess that's what was called white privilege.

"And if one of your men got injured? You'd send them down there to suffer the same fate?"

Her follow up question was ridiculous. She had to know that. They weren't living in a rainbow nation where everyone sang joy to the world. White did not always get on with black or brown, or even white, and visa versa.

It was a dog eat dog world and Troy gorged. Anyone in his position would have. Madison did – that much was clear now – and in this, they were a lot alike.

"If it wasn't a fatal injury and I knew they'd survive, then no. We had medical for that. A staff. But resources were limited and you couldn't just go about handing it out to every unfortunate soul who stumbled in with a bullet or bite. If we did, we'd have had nothing left to ourselves or our people."

He glanced back at her momentarily as he drove. "If you had limited resources and had to choose between your family and a stranger, you'd have done it?"

Alicia met his gaze, hard and cold, before she gestured in Nick's direction. "I'd choose him over anyone," she admitted, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. "Guess I was just wondering how important your people were to you. If you stopped caring for them the moment they no longer benefited your existence."

The look she was giving him now was one he'd never even seen her mother wear. She was livid, and he supposed if there was an opportunity, she'd have hit him.

He could see now why she and Jake had gravitated toward one another.

He gave a short sarcastic laugh. "Why would I? When things got tough and my father died and I no longer benefited them, they banished me. They abandoned me. Did I deserve it? Maybe. But I kept the ranch and the surrounding area clear of the dead, I enforced the rules – and if it wasn't for me – the place and our food stocks would have crumbled ages ago. My mistake was your mother. I should have killed her after she spooned my eye."

And he would have, too, had Jake not held him back.

Something must be broken in him, Alicia thought. Some wires in his head that got crossed or disconnected. Because he didn't seem to understand what had happened. Or he didn't want to.

His banishment had nothing to do with his usefulness, and everything to do with the fact he had tried to shoot Walker and his people once their two 'tribes' had merged. She wondered if he even comprehended why that was wrong. Probably not. And that said a lot about the man they were dealing with. It told Alicia that his personal need for vengeance meant more than the safety of those around him.

Though she realized Mom was not without her fault in this whole scenario. She had manipulated the Ottos from the start, and though Alicia dreaded Troy's last statement, she couldn't help but wonder how things would have turned out for all of them had she and her family never come to the ranch.

"Shoulda, woulda, coulda," she replied calmly, leaning back in her seat.

Her observation was not what he expected in regards to his view on what he should have done to her mother. He'd expected more disgust, hatred and possible swearing.

"Definitely should have," he retorted in agreement, eyes briefly dipping to Nick who still appeared to be out of it and unaware of their conversation before settling on the road again. "Do you miss Jake? Did you love him?"

A flush of heat crept up the back of her neck, the kind that earlier had Alicia reaching for the scissors with the intention of burying them in Troy's chest. Her jaw clenched, and she had to force herself to take a breath to stay calm. Nick was right. She didn't want to be the kind of person who hurt others if it could be helped. Even Troy Otto. Still, it suddenly became increasingly more difficult to cling to that thought.

She couldn't tell whether Troy's question was genuine, or just an attempt to get a rise out of her. Alicia sought his gaze in the rearview mirror. "You really wanna go there?"

With a quick glance in the rear-view mirror, he could see that now he'd hit a nerve – a real nerve – one that even the mention of murdering her mother hadn't set off.

Was she that mad? He knew they no longer wanted to be with Madison and that Nick felt smothered by her — he'd confessed as much during their high excursion — but what was Alicia's issue with her? Why did she want to pull away from her in a world where not seeing each other for years, months or ever were a sure-fire possibility? What had she done to her?

They'd seemed close.

"Is there a reason the question is hard to answer?"

Alicia swallowed, averting her gaze, because looking at him seemed to only make the anger inside her grow. If it had been Nick asking her these questions, she would have answered without much difficulty. Because she knew with absolute certainty, he'd never use it against her. He'd never use Jake's death as a means to hurt her.

But Troy – the indirect cause of Jake dying in the first place, he'd use it to his advantage if he could. Hell, to him her emotions might even serve as some creepy experiment of the human mind. She didn't want to make herself more vulnerable to attacks from him than she already was.

So she made herself cold, with the same ease she had towards Mom and Nick and Travis when life's chaos was raging around them and they were all too preoccupied to see her. She cleared her face of the blazing anger and the sorrow she had yet to truly begin to experience. "I miss him. I didn't love him."

Troy observed the way she averted her gaze like someone lying to avoid admitting the truth. They'd only known each other a few months, so it was possible, love was fickle, and in times when things fell apart, it was easily adopted to stave off loneliness.

Even he'd been guilty of it in respects to sex.

"Did you tell him that?"

It was strange to think Troy and Jake were brothers. They were so different, not just in morals but how they perceived themselves. But every now and then, Alicia saw a glimpse of similarity. It was the eyes mostly. And the smile.

And, perhaps, that was another reason Troy could now so easily get under her skin – because he was a walking, talking reminder that the wrong brother had died.

"He suspected," she admitted in a low murmur. "When I wouldn't leave the ranch with him, he thought I had seduced him for Mom's sake. Manipulated him. That Nick had manipulated you for the same reason."

Troy nodded, half expecting she might have said otherwise or attempted to keep up a front to prevent an altercation, and found himself impressed. "Did you manipulate him?"

He didn't have to know about Nick, and nor did Troy even think there was truth to that. After everything, what could Troy have given him? He had nothing, and yet Nick continued to stick around and travel with him.

Alicia kept her gaze at the window, shook her head. "I don't play games like that. I wasn't in love with him, doesn't mean I didn't care."

And she had cared. Truly. Jake Otto had been a good man. One of the few she had encountered in this new world. And he'd deserved a better fate than what he got.

She now wondered: if it wasn't for her, whether he'd have gone to the cabin by himself. He could have been saved. Now that was a crushing thought. "Did you love him?"

That was a relief. Troy was used to the easygoing atmosphere that Nick offered him, and the fact that Nick was so honest about everything. Troy'd have loathed to look on every interaction like something he had to monitor again in order to put on a certain mask.

"I did," he responded after a brief dissection of his own beliefs, feeling something he thought was comparable to guilt. It didn't last, and he'd barely registered it before it was gone.

Before going to negotiate with Walker a second time, Jake had insinuated that Troy hadn't wanted him to return, that maybe the youngest Otto wanted his brother dead and no longer desired him in his life, and at times—especially when they disagreed on views — it felt like Troy wanted nothing more. But now that Jake was gone and Troy knew he'd never hear his judgement again, he felt unknowingly different, and as if he would welcome all that bullshit with open arms.

At least Troy might have. He liked to think that he would.

It's what Alicia had expected him to say, and yet she wasn't sure if she believed him. That was unfair of her, she knew it. She just didn't understand how you could love someone and still want to hurt them, and she was sure Troy had wanted to on several occasions. Like a child playing too rough with a pet, and not comprehending why they suddenly stopped moving and breathing. Something almost beyond his control.

"Why didn't you stay with your mother?"

She heaved a sigh, his question feeling too enormous to truly address all at once.

"Several reasons. Main one being we're too different. We have the same goal, but we choose different paths. Hers is not for me. I don't want it." She paused a moment, eyeing Nick again. "Do you care about Nick?"

"Yeah. Of course. We're friends," he replied, darting a look at Nick to see if he'd woken up during their talk or if he was still out.

Was that even possible that he hadn't, or had Nick just not slept well the night before? What if it was worse, and the internal bleeding had caught up to him and they hadn't noticed?

Troy reached over, index finger impulsively extended beneath Nick's nose to wait for the telltale sign of his breathing. When it came, hot and steady, he removed the hand and relaxed, internally kicking himself for being so stupid. "Do _you_ think I care about Nick?"

"Don't know yet," she answered honestly, shrugging out of her denim jacket. Ever since yesterday, it smelled of dirty river water, and the scent was starting to make her feel unwell. If Troy was feeling charitable enough he might allow her to make use of one of the jackets she found last night.

"I think you like him." She reached for the bag they'd been carrying, rummaging around inside until she found the blanket, and folded it neatly. "Don't know you well enough to know if you care."

Though she was certain whatever Troy felt in regards to Nick was the only reason he had pulled her back from the brink of death. So, there had to be something there.

Alicia pushed the blanket to the window so she could rest her head against it, the side that wasn't injured, and she shifted a little in her seat to get comfortable. "Don't hurt him. I'll blow your brains out."

Troy appreciated her honesty and laughed. It wasn't that he didn't think she couldn't do it, it was that he knew she could follow through with the threat and would. There was a harmony in that awareness, a fact that made him think that, in time, they, too, could be friends, and that maybe her thinking wasn't too far off from what Nick and Troy shared.

Assuming their conversation had ended on that note, Troy set the volume on the radio to low and turned it on, scowling as a slur of Mexican peeled from the speakers.

He inhaled and forced himself to keep it on, to drown out the silence and bide a bit of time on a trip that was going to take some time.

Determined that on their next stop he'd make a point of finding new music.

Alicia thought she dozed off for a few, but woke again once Troy pulled over at a gas station. They managed to scavenge some fuel from the pumps, as well as the few abandoned vehicles in the parking lot. But the shop itself was completely barren. No more food or drinks to be found.

She got behind the wheel this time, taking her turn to drive so Troy could get some rest. In theory, anyway. She had a sense he didn't feel completely confident in her ability to take them where they needed to go.

* * *

The burning estate transfixes Nick. He stands there forever, unable to move, to run there and see if everyone's gotten out safe. He just stands and watches, feeling terror at the sight fill his chest with heavy lead.

His mother's voice is calling him, imploring to get in the car with her and flee to the next place that would be in ruins within days or weeks or months after they'd get in.

He can't. All he can do is watch it burn, feel it burn deep inside him while he witnesses it, and the flames are reflecting in his eyes as though the very one burning inside of him. He hears the dead walk around him, making sounds as though they regret seeing such devastation. Some of their own were there, inside. Trapped.

Like Celia.

The thought is a flash of lightning in his head. It frees him, and Nick finally can run there. No people seem to be left around, and the flames are too bright and hot in most rooms. The smoke is choking him, making his chest bust with hurt, but he doesn't care. Coughing makes him feel like he could spit a lung out. He forces himself to continue, scared to call her name. Some weird feeling deep down shuts his mouth. Some bad feeling that he would hate to find what he's seeking.

The house where they keep the dead is still locked – at least, it seems that way. There is no one behind the black bars, but the orange haze from the fire downstairs in the cellar. Nick leans into the grid to hear if anyone's calling for help down there, and it slides open. There has been no lock.

He hesitates, then hurries inside and down the stairs. The cellar is like scorching hell. It's all fire, smoke and walking figures engulfed in flames. They stroll around aimlessly, but don't seem to notice him. As if his disguise is still working.

He doesn't care about that much. Futilely pressing the hem of his dirty shirt to his nose and mouth, he cautiously picks his way along the burning walkers, coughing as he goes.

He sees her. She stands with her back to him, not even trying to get away. The fire's raging around her, but she seems untouched by it.

"Celia," he tries to call, but his throat's too constricted to make a sound. He reaches out a hand, approaching her, but she turns before he can touch her.

Her eyes have lost their color, they stare through him now, but he knows she sees him. She smiles; it's a sad smile, a smile of pity. Her mouth is moving, and at first, he thinks it's like with other dead – the biting snaps. But then, it seems like a pattern, like she actually is trying to tell him something he would understand.

It pains him to see her like that, and he knows it's a suicide, but he feels he owes it to her to try. And he comes closer to hear what she says. It's so damn quiet, and the fire is crackling so loudly.

Her mouth is almost touching his ear, her cold fingers squeeze on his shoulders as she draws him closer to pass her last message. Her hair is tickling his face.

"Ella te maldijo," she hisses. Her teeth sink into his neck.

* * *

Nick woke in a jerk, gasping and immediately wincing as it filled his chest with pain. It was the car, and, surprisingly, Alicia behind the wheel.

They had crossed the border into the States and were driving up Interstate 8, close to switching to one of the smaller back-roads by the time Nick gasped awake. His sudden reaction took her by surprise, and she stared at him for several seconds before forcing her gaze back to the road. He looked scared as hell.

"You okay?"

Awareness slipped back in, replacing the dream with reality. He brushed a hand over his neck, still feeling her teeth on him. It was already twilight outside. And his body ached all over after having to stay in one pose for hours. Wincing, he worked the kinks out of his neck, touching his fingers to that spot again unwittingly.

He rubbed his eyes as if it was going to make the vision abandon his memory. It didn't. He took a cautious half-breath, refraining from wincing, and glanced at her. "Yeah, I'm… just a bad dream."

He made himself smile and cast a gander at the backseat, making sure she didn't ditch Troy somewhere like he was sure she was tempted to do multiple times.

"I shouldn't have slept," he said, trying to make himself comfortable in the damn seat and finding there was barely a way, anymore. "My head's heavy. It's weird I didn't wake earlier. I'm a very sound sleeper." He gave her an assessing look. "Are you feeling okay? We can stop for the night somewhere already, 'cause everybody here but me needs their sleep, too."

"Soon," she said. "I wanna get us off the interstate, into the more forested areas. We'll need to make a fire."

Glancing between him and the road, she shot him a small smile.

"Sausages for dinner."

He gave another placating smile at the notion of dinner, but in truth, he didn't feel like eating anything. Which couldn't be good, but there it was.

Alicia considered him. He looked disorientated, and though he was putting on a brave face, she could tell something was weighing heavily on his mind.

"Nightmare, huh? What was it about?"

Her question made him frown. He didn't want to revise it. "I don't know, it was a mix of things," he lied, eyeing the prairie and the mountains framing the road. "One of those weird ones you forget when you wake."

Alicia had a pretty good idea of what was on his mind. But she couldn't force him to talk about it. Could she?

"It wasn't your fault," she said, glancing at him again. "What Mom did… it wasn't your fault. You know that, right?"

Nick almost laughed. Laughter would have been a painful work, and not even just physically. He rather felt like crying, but there were no tears. Like they were stuck inside, swelling and aching there like a giant lump blocking his airways and making his breathing hurt.

"You heard what she said, Alicia," he reasoned tiredly, watching the terrain. "She did it to protect me from a woman that had been nothing but kind to me all along. She talked to me, she listened to me, she let us all stay, and my mother decided I needed to be protected from her. It's fucking clear as day. And it's done. It's a fact."

"Celia died because Mom made the decision to kill her. Mom." Alicia took one hand off the steering wheel and reached for his. "Not because you did something wrong, but because Mom felt threatened. Because she couldn't control the situation. And that is not on you, Nick. It's just not."

"It's not about who made that choice, it's about why."

He still refused to look at her even when her hand grasped for his. It was touching him deeply that she tried to do her best to lift it off him, but at the same time, it was pissing him off that she was willing to bend the truth to make him feel better. It was somewhere along the line what Madison would try to do at times. And it wasn't fair to either of them, because the truth was the truth.

"She probably thought that my listening and trying to understand meant I was taking up some new fucked up religion or something. Like… trying a yet new kind of drug. Again. So yeah, it's me. It's on me and always will be. I had to make her understand what I was doing, but I didn't feel I needed to. I was just trying to make sense of things and see if I could find a common ground with Celia. I just let her believe what she believed, I let her have it, and her son who she needed to have back. But all my good intentions fucked up the whole thing. People died. And Celia died. Because she was viewed as that new drug brand that was so bad for my hazy fucking brain."

Silence ensued on her part while he was talking, getting things off his chest, and it lasted a good while after he stopped. She didn't know how to convince him he was not at fault. Same as how she had not known how to impart on him he was free of guilt when she, Travis and Mom were captured and detained by Troy and his men because they were looking for him. Her brother had a tendency of clinging to his guilt, of harboring a sense of self-loathing even if he did an admirable job of pretending otherwise. She could relate on occasion, but it still killed her he was trying to carry all that darkness by himself.

"Are you grieving?" she asked cautiously. "Or are you too angry for that?"

Nick thought about it. He probably was grieving, all right. But he wasn't sure if he was angry, anymore. He felt too worn out for anything like that. He was just scared that it was finally too much. Scared that he had to live with it, and it felt so heavy that it made him want to die.

But what he told his sister was: "I'll be fine. I just need some time to bury it among the things I'll never be able to fix, and I'll be as good as new. It's a habit I've been abusing for so many years, after all. Don't worry about me."

Alicia gave a slight smile. "I'll stop worrying about you when you stop worrying about me."

Which they both knew would never happen. It wasn't just the way they'd been raised to care about each other; it was instinct. As deep and primal as anything else true and genuine she had ever felt. You always worried about the ones you loved.

"I'm trying to make you feel better because I love you," she confessed, withdrawing her hand so she could successfully pull onto a road marked '79'. "Because it hurts me to know you are suffering. And so, in that way I am selfish. And I'm sorry about that. You feel what you need to feel to get through this. But I can't stop worrying, Nick. It's impossible."

"I know," he confirmed. "And if it'll make you feel any better, it'd all be a thousand times worse without you. But at the same time, having you with me scares the shit outta me because all I ever did to you was utter shit. You brought me comfort, and I failed you, left you, lied to you, disappointed you, then left again. I'm scared as hell I will make you regret your choice, because it has always gotten down to it. And it wasn't because I didn't love you, but because I didn't know what to do with all of it. What to do with myself. I'm not fully sure I know it now."

Alicia didn't think she'd ever be able to fully let go of the past, of all the trials and tribulations their family had been through. But it no longer seemed to matter as much as it used to.

She appreciated Nick's ability to self-reflect. There was a time when he was too heavily into the drugs that he didn't quite manage that. At least not in front of her on those few occasions they saw one another. But he was different now.

* * *

Troy didn't manage to fall asleep once they'd changed positions. He couldn't; he was hyped, and the day overall was an exciting one — what with their return to the states.

He didn't have a home, anymore, and nothing he could label and go back to, but he didn't mind all that much.

Not anymore. There was nothing to do about it.

Although, if he wanted, he could return to the ranch, clear away the horde and start from the bottom. He suspected one other person in the party wouldn't be inclined to that concept and that it would crop up ugliness.

Maybe, if and when things fell flat and the Clarks — now that they were a team again — decided three was a crowd and they no longer needed him, Troy could revisit that concept. It was a possibility if he were to understand their conversation correctly.

He wasn't a model citizen, and these two were carrying around enough guilt to choke a horse.

Like Jake.

It would only be a matter of time before Troy's personality reared and viewpoints started conflicting. It always did. When he and Alicia had spoken earlier and she'd made the comment about Jake's belief, about his feeling and questioning if she'd manipulated him, Troy had automatically defended the notion in regards to Nick. Yet, maybe, he'd been naïve and optimistic.

As he'd eavesdropped to her trying to make Nick feel better — and his rejection — Troy wondered if that was how Nick felt about Jeremiah and if that was why he continued to stick with Troy.

She tried to appease his mind and make him feel better—like Troy did a while ago, forgiving him for Jeremiah's murder, not because it was right but because it was done and there was very little to do in the way of changing it —but had Nick accepted it? And was that a part of the reason he'd stuck with Troy?

Did it matter?

The more Troy listened, the more he came to the conclusion that it did. Nick's guilt controlled him, dumped him in situations with his mother he clearly didn't want to be in and suffocated him.

As much as Troy valued their friendship, he wasn't all that fond of the idea of their relationship heading that way and feeling like he had to monitor his personality or do things differently so he wouldn't add to that internal conflict.

Troy kept his eyes closed, forcing himself to stay relaxed, and continued to eavesdrop on their conversation, learning more about the two than he assumed he would ever be privy to while awake.

* * *

"You need to stop thinking I'm perfect, Nick. I never have been. We're both going to make mistakes going forward. It can't be avoided. What matters is that we stick together, that we're honest about who we are and who we want to be. We'll figure it out."

He chuckled and turned to give her an incredulous look. "You're saying all that and you still want me to believe you're not perfect? Do you hear yourself?"

"I'm not." And it kind of scared Alicia that he thought she was. It meant his disappointment would be that much greater once he figured it out. Another heavy blow to shake his world.

They were getting closer to the forest and mountains now, trees popping up every now and then, their population seemingly increasing the further they drove, slowly replacing that of the desert wasteland.

"I've been thinking," she said after a while, hands tightening a little on the steering wheel. "About Su-Su. Mrs. Tran."

She had been their next-door neighbor in Los Angeles, and had taken care of Nick and Alicia when they were little while Mom and Dad were at work.

"She had this jewelry box up in her bedroom that I loved exploring because all her trinkets were so exciting and unlike anything I had ever seen before. Most of them from China, I think. Anyway, there was one day I was upset, crying, I can't remember why."

It had been the year Nick went off to kindergarten, and for the first week, Alicia had cried and cried, missing her big brother during the day and not quite comprehending why she couldn't come with him to that magical place they would pick him up from every afternoon.

"To comfort me, Su-Su gave me one of her pins to borrow, and she told me stories of her home country, which to me at the time sounded like crazy fairy tales. But I loved it. And I loved her for taking care of me. And I remember a while later when Mom came home from work and it was time for me to go home as well, that I didn't want to. I wanted to stay with Su-Su because we were having so much fun and I loved her. I told Mom that."

She frowned, almost squinting as if that would make the memory clearer.

"And it seemed to make her mad, in that cold angry way she can get. A few days later, she got me set up in daycare. Said Mrs. Tran was getting too old, didn't have enough energy anymore to look after kids. I was sad but didn't question it."

Not until now.

"I just wonder if… Mom has been pushing people away from us for a very long time."

It got clear rather soon where she was going with her aunt Susu. Nick felt another pang of guilt for steering her thoughts that way. Neither needed to discover even more to that topic and make a list of crimes. It was their mother, and even though she had some selfish urges that turned grim-reaper bad after the apocalypse, she still loved them in her own twisted way. Nick didn't want to cause Alicia's resentment by wallowing in his Celia problem.

And then, just as she thought of Susu, he thought about Dad. About every time he noticed the same look mom had been using for Nick executed on Dad. It probably cut the same kind of deep. So deep Dad couldn't take it, anymore.

"It's a dangerous road, Lisha," he said, turning to look at her with a hint of a sad smile. "Once you start on it, you can't stop, and the slope's getting worse until you tumble down and can't get up. Don't do it to yourself."

"It is a dangerous road," she agreed. "And it may all be circumstantial. But some of it might be true."

That was one of the horrors of growing up – realizing your parents had flaws, coming to understand why they'd acted like they always had. It was an awakening, but not always a welcome one.

"I always hoped you and I would get to vacation together," she said after another bout of silence, a small mischievous smile playing on her lips. "I was thinking after college, and Europe, but…'The Middle of Nowhere, America' works too. I'll take it."

"An eternal vacation works great until you're fed up with too much of me," he said, chuckling, and reached for the water bottle.

"Are you planning on being annoying?" Alicia grinned, pulling over onto a dirt road that would hopefully lead to a place they could park and camp for the night. At least it would be hard to spot them from the main road, leaving them safe from the proctors and other potential crews of opportunists.

The dead? Well, that was harder to prepare for.

"I don't plan these things, it happens naturally," he played back.

She came to a halt at the end of the road where a small makeshift parking lot seemed to have been constructed pre-apocalypse. Probably to accommodate hikers and the like. She didn't turn off the ignition, leaving the headlights on a beat longer so their view was clear.

"What do you think? Good enough for one night?"

He looked around through the windows. "We'll need one on the watch at all times if we sleep outside. And then it might be fine."

"That would be the best option in most locations," she countered, remembering how, when she was on her own, she hadn't felt safe to sleep much even in what would be considered relatively safe shelters. She turned the car off and handed the keys to Nick before jumping out, moving to the back of the jeep to claim one of the military jackets for herself, and a functioning flashlight.

Nick stepped out of the car, closing the door as quietly as he could, and went to open the trunk. He found his handgun, considered it, and left it in. Too much noise wasn't good.

"I'll take a quick look around," she said, indicating the edges of the lot where she would still be in their view, but would also gain a better sense of where they were and how to best utilize this space for the night. "Maybe wake sleeping beauty?"

She considered helping herself to one of Troy's guns for added safety. That would surely have woken him right up.

"Wake up, Troy, we stopped for the night," Nick called and closed the trunk, strolling after Alicia and searching the terrain for any staggering silhouettes.

Troy waited a minute and then sat up, sliding out of the back.

* * *

The area wasn't bad in choice but it was exposed, which meant there would be little to protect them against any of the dead. He wasn't fond of that picture but it wasn't good driving around at night, either.

While the Clarks went off in different directions to make sure they were safe, Troy got back in, unlocked the door next to the coolers so that they could easily remove them when ready, and went to demarcate a spot in the dirt for a fire.

Alicia moved cautiously and as silently as possible, shining the flashlight at the trees up ahead to get a look at her surroundings. It wasn't much more than she expected. Just forest. And the sound of their car didn't seem to have attracted any of the dead either. For now, at least.

Ten minutes later, she headed back to the car, carrying some branches that could be used for firewood and spears to cook their food on. She dropped them in a heap on the dirt floor behind the Jeep, perching on the edge of the open flatbed, and reached for the moonshine to rinse her knife.

Keeping Alicia in his field of view, Nick checked the area to the side of her route, and found nothing alarming. He didn't doubt that some dead - one or two or a few - would eventually make their way here from any direction, but now wasn't the time.

Troy had made his way around his share of the ground and was busy with a bonfire.

Nick slid his knife in the sheath on his hip and took a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the glove compartment. He had a few lighters stashed, and for good reason: he had lost his last one in the flooding dam.

Breathing still hurt, but he intended to try. Anything to not be tempted to take a pill or two.

He lit a cigarette, took a shallow drag, wincing subtly as he let the smoke out, surveying the terrain around. It was better lit now that the half-moon was out of clouds.

Troy used both hands to dig a small hole in the ground, made a wide enough circle, and then rose up, scanning the dark and what loomed in the light to be able to find something to bridge it. There was nothing, nothing consistent.

He dug the hole a little deeper, pushing the sand aside, and then went to claim the sticks he'd seen Alicia appear with, assuming she'd got them to help start things.

He settled them in the middle of the hole, stacking them in fours and up, shifting away just long enough to retrieve some dry leaves that he'd stuffed into the middle.

He stood again and walked over to Nick who was smoking. "Mind if I borrow that?" He gestured to Nick's hand in the dark, in search of the lighter to give things a bit of a kick.

Alicia cleansed her knife with the alcohol, hoping it would kill most of the bacteria lingering on the blade from various stabbings, and got to sharpening the sticks. She supposed the fire would take care of whatever nastiness the moonshine had failed to.

Nick's brow was pinched slightly and she couldn't tell whether it was from discomfort or another bout of heavy thoughts. She didn't feel like asking him about it again, not in front of Troy while he was awake.

"We've decided to go to Jake's cabin," she told her brother since he had not actually been conscious when the idea came up. "If we leave in the early morning we might make it there around noon."

Nick handed Troy the lighter and turned to Alicia. "He had a cabin," he said, not exactly questioning, but rather tasting the idea as he smoked, leaned against the side of the car. He looked at Alicia knowingly. "He offered you to get away with him from all that nasty feud, didn't he?"

Troy took the lighter and moved back to his small pit, rearranging the sticks and leaves one last time, and then lit them. They went up immediately, latching onto the surrounding twigs.

It wasn't going to be something that lasted all night but it would get the job done cooking the meat Alicia had found. He returned to the car, lightly nudging her aside while she and her brother spoke, removing first the empty container on top before reaching in to open the second.

He removed the meat inside and sniffed at the packaging now that it had been out in the open for a few hours and without anything to chill it. Blood could do weird shit, and they'd all get sick very quickly.

Deciding that it was okay, Troy grabbed it and the empty container and headed back to the fire.

"Yep," she said, feeling oddly vulnerable again with the topic revisited in Troy's presence. She leaned away to allow the latter to reach around her, practically holding her breath and her knife stilling until he was out of her space again. "Supposed to be some supplies up there. And might not be a bad idea to lay low for a bit. Until the proctors lose our scent."

In the weak, flickering light of the bonfire, Nick could see her face, and he read it there in the way she pinched her lips, in how her brow furrowed briefly like a resonator of bad thoughts. Guilty thoughts.

He shifted closer to her, leaning back as he watched the fire.

"It's always tempting to go into all the what-ifs," he said wistfully. "And I did, many times. What if I went with Luci when she asked me to… Whether any of it would have turned out differently… For me – surely. But it wasn't just me. I didn't wanna stay. But I couldn't leave, either. I wasn't ready to walk away after you all almost died trying to get me out of that pit, and Travis actually did die. And then, I'd walk away from you, again. I wanted to cave to her, but I wasn't ready. When she left, it cut me, deep, but at the same time, there was some weird, morbid kind of relief. That I didn't have to dance around the topic anymore, pretending to still be pondering."

He took a drag and shrugged.

"It's different for you. But the core of the problem is the same: you weren't ready. Period. It's not a fault, and even if it woulda kept him alive, you'd have another reason to regret it." He turned to look at her. "It still hurts. But it's one of those things where the what-if you haven't picked wouldn't have made it better for you. Probably not. You'll let it go, after a while."

He kissed her temple and strolled toward the fire.

Troy flipped the container next to the fire and sat down on top of it, the meat in his lap while he waited for the flames to grow hotter.

With the silence and little to no sound around them, it wasn't hard to make out their conversation, assuming this was something at least one of them was willing to share with him out in the open.

He'd always wondered about Luciana and how Nick felt about her leaving once the dust had settled, never daring to bring it up, since last time he'd confronted Clark with his curiosity in the pantry Nick had been hostile.

Troy guessed he himself had been part of the reason, or at least Otto's people and their values.

He offered the lighter back to Nick once he approached the fire, making a mental note to get another spare in case they were to lose that one, and perhaps a whole stack of them.

Fuel was one thing, finding lighter fuel was another beast entirely.

"So, we're decided then. We're going to the cabin?"

Even if Jake had been Troy's brother, speaking about him in Troy's presence made Alicia feel almost dirty. And so she chose not to partake this time, simply listening as her own brother spoke, explaining his own thoughts about Luciana leaving and how he'd handled it, as well as how she'd handled Jake's desire to go.

And, of course, she'd had those thoughts: the what-ifs. She always did when someone died. What if she had gotten Jake away from the ranch? What if she had chosen to take Travis's seat on the helicopter? What if she had just tried to talk to Andrés one last time instead of reaching for her knife?

But she also knew those thoughts were futile, and rarely brought any good with them.

She leaned into the kiss Nick planted on the side of her head, eyeing him a few seconds after he left her side, and continued to sharpen the sticks which she ultimately handed Troy's way.

"Yeah. We're going."

Nick lit another cigarette once he settled on the ground, keeping any winces off his face.

"You sure you know where it is?" he asked, glancing between them. He didn't assume Troy wasn't aware of that cabin before Alicia brought it up.

"I know where it is. It's a popular lodging area," Troy stated, clutching the meat to his chest, moving to take the sticks from Alicia.

He sat back down, undid the plastic cover and skewered the sausage, wrapping them around in parts, using his free hand to feel for the heat on the flames.

"And I memorized the way there on the map after Jake first showed me."

Just in case he chose to go without her. She didn't know if she would have chased him down. Probably not, if going to the cabin was what he really wanted, and it seemed to have been. She wasn't so sure it was because the ranch had changed so much, or because he felt he was failing everyone under his leadership.

Alicia sheathed her knife and brought her leg up on the car with her, leaning back against its interior.

"Let's hope no one got to the place before us."

"If it's a worthy place, there might be surprises," Nick commented. "I just hope neither of you's gonna go Alamo on them invaders. Good or perfect, it's not worth dying for."

Alicia arched an eyebrow, wondering when her brother had ever seen her "go Alamo" on anything. It wasn't as if her attempted and desired stabbing of Troy the day before was a common occurrence. "Depends on what we find, I guess."

"What is worth dying for?" Troy asked. "You don't think we should take what's ours? What was Jake's?" He removed his hand from the heat, replacing it with a stick of meat he held in place.

"Look around, Troy, you think there's any ownership left in this world? The only thing you own is your body, and the rest is up for the taking by those who come, see and snatch first." Nick took a drag, looking at him. "Dying's easy. At all times. Any reasons. Or none at all. Living's the real challenge. So no, a piece of old world's property's not worth dying for in my book. Is it in yours?"

Stupid question as Troy'd been willing to die for the ranch and its inhabitants only a couple of weeks ago – if that was his purpose. "Yeah. To withstand what's to come you have to be better than the next guy, more ruthless and willing to do and take to survive. You give up what's yours and you're admitting defeat. You have to craft a life for yourself or you have nothing."

Alicia looked between the two of them in the semi-darkness, reaching behind her for her water bottle to allow herself a sip. She thought she knew where she stood on this issue, or had done in the past at the very least. But she also knew her time alone, even if it was hardly any time at all, had changed her perspectives a little. After all, hadn't she chased down the woman who had snatched her food out from under her? Threatened to put a bullet in her head in order to keep it? Would she have, though, if they hadn't come to a peaceful agreement? Alicia didn't think so. She hoped not. But a part of her wasn't sure.

What she knew for certain was that she had become bolder. Stronger. She would hide if it was necessary, but wouldn't automatically back down from a fight.

"Have to be able to live with yourself, though," she commented, taking another sip of water.

Nick looked at each of them in turn, contemplating it, then flicked the cigarette butt into the fire. A small amused smile touched his mouth as he glanced at Troy.

"I don't suppose you gonna wave an ownership paper in front of their noses. Therefore, all the ownership bullshit is just a claim with no proof. It's all about who can kill for it, win it and hold it. I'm not up for another round of bloody holding on to shit."

He held a hand out for the water bottle when Alicia finished, and took a sip.

"I'm sorry, you guys, but I don't think I'll be willing to bite into someone's throat for a house. I'd rather find another one that's empty. Because it's not worth killing for or living with it afterwards."

Troy had killed a lot of people since this thing started, and he'd slept like a baby. He didn't have to remind either of them of that or the fact that he'd do it again. "If there happens to be an empty house and its safe, sure, if not, we'll fine tune and adjust."

He prodded at the meat to check if it was cooking properly, and then relaxed the arm on his knee, rotating it slowly as if he were cooking a s'more.

When the first was done, he handed it over to whoever wanted it, and started on the second.

Alicia was happy to know that even if Nick and Troy had been spending a lot of time together, her brother hadn't come around to seeing things Troy's way. It was comforting.

She pushed off her seat to catch the stick Troy was handing over, and gave it to Nick. He looked like he could do with a hot meal. She grabbed the third stick and impaled a sausage of her own to warm over the fire, saving Troy the hassle of having to cook for all of three.

"Let's not write Jake's cabin off before we even get there. For all we know it could be fine."

Nick still wasn't sure whether he could keep down a meal – he did too long without it and still felt like shit, in most ways – but he placated his sister by accepting the handmade skewer. The smell wasn't unpleasant, so there was hope.

"I was just saying that I don't want to have to battle over it. Because it's not the last hut in the woods in this world, and there are significantly less people around to claim them. There's always something unoccupied to find. No need to go crazy over taken things."

He took a cautious bite and chewed slowly as though it were a baked snake. It wasn't bad. It might work.

Time slowly ticked by as they ate. They hadn't found more sticks and there wasn't enough to keep it going any longer than an hour. Conversation too ran dry. Troy threw the cling wrap and foam plate onto the last of the coal, aware that the smell was horrendous but tossing it out for nature to take care of when it was already sluggish, wouldn't be right, either.

Not that it should matter. The wasted were already everywhere trashing up the place.

Troy dusted his hands on his pants, picked up the container he'd been seated on, and knocked the dust free of it as he carried it to the car.

He removed the cooler and picked up the cushions he'd loosened on the backseat, freeing up the ammo stuffed beneath them to deposit the few in the container. A handgun, six grenades and three boxes of ammo. One partially full. There hadn't been much else he could steal from the pantry after the rescue mission at the ranch and the rest had been used to barter with.

He pushed the cushion back into place, secured it so that it wouldn't move around, and then returned the cooler to its place, removing a bottle of water for himself before stacking the weapons on top.

The two siblings were talking, and for a while, Troy returned to the fire and joined them, amazed how easily the conversation flowed—when you discussed things as senseless as music — with Alicia there, too.

Considering Alicia hadn't eaten much at all those past few days, it was surprising how quickly her stomach said "enough". She managed to finish her sausage, but left it at that, allowing the boys to have seconds, or to save the rest for breakfast if there were leftovers.

Once her belly was full, sleepiness also set in. They sat in front of the bonfire a while, talking about what people their age should be discussing: music and movies and other lighthearted topics that seemed foreign in this new world, but was a welcome distraction nonetheless.

The ease didn't last, and before long, they drew invisible straws about who would be taking the first second and third watch.

Since Nick had slept for most of the drive, he volunteered to take the first shift of keeping guard while Troy and Alicia slept.

Troy insisted on the first but was given the second. He accepted the position, laid out a space for them in the flatbed where they wouldn't have to be curled up on the ground. It was a fitful sleep at first for Alicia, light and disturbed by the sounds of nature, but she eventually fell into blissful darkness. Troy spent most the time in a state of wakefulness, unable to sleep out in the open as much as he tried. It was too exposed and unlike last night – without borders.

It was an uneventful night for Nick, which was good in this setting. There were no surprises. Just one walker appeared in the middle of his watch, and he took him down quietly. The dead was withered, barely dragging his feet. Nick sat for a long while just staring into the fire and trying not to indulge in heavy thoughts. Fire brought memories he didn't welcome, so he just turned his back to it, enjoying the warmth, and stared into the night until it was time to wake Troy.

Sleep took Nick rather quickly, and it brought no vivid dreams. Nothing solid he could remember, and it was a relief. Alicia's voice roused him. He woke in a start, fearing there was something bad happening, like a horde marching through.

"What?" he blurted, blinking the sleep away.


	7. Chapter 7

**RIVER FLOWS NORTH — PART 5**

Morning didn't come quickly, but when it did, it was bright and warm, adding the slight pain thumping behind his eyes, sensation Troy could remember so clearly from two nights ago and his horde incurious. His eyes burnt, too.

He eased out of the flatbed, stretched his legs, and slowly disappeared into the forest to relieve himself before returning to the jeep to check the wheels and water and prepare for the day.

Alicia watched him lazily. He looked a tad befuddled as he climbed out of the Jeep and disappeared into the forest behind her. Nick appeared to still be asleep, so she abandoned the fire to gently rouse him as Troy returned. She rested one hand on her brother's leg, just below his knee where she knew he was ticklish, and squeezed gently.

"Nick? You awake?"

"What?" Nick blurted, blinking the sleep away.

Maybe the leg-squeeze was a bad idea, considering how abruptly he jerked awake.

"It's okay," Alicia murmured, trying to meet his sleepy gaze. "Just time to get ready, is all."

She took a seat on the flatbed beside him, putting the rifle they'd been taking turns with throughout the night down.

Nick let out an abrupt exhale that reverberated with a throe in his chest, and slipped to the ground, afraid to stretch.

"I'll get ready, then," he said, waving a hand at the bushes. "You slept okay?"

"Better than expected." Considering she shared space with Troy for half of that time. "Your ribs okay?" It was the same question she had asked the morning before, but since her side was still sore, it wasn't all that unlikely his was, too. Come to think of it, she should have checked herself in the bathroom mirror back at the restaurant. But it had blown right past her mind.

Nick considered her question, and shrugged. "I guess they're bruised. It hurts. But I suppose it'd be worse if they were broken. Are you feeling okay?"

Alicia smiled a little, glad he was being honest and not just trying to soothe her worries. "Same. I'm sure Troy would have told us if he heard something crack."

He frowned momentarily. What she referred to was probably CPR. And some of it could be that. But Nick felt like something was hurting inside, too, like when he fell off that horse. Maybe something else got bruised, with no telling what and how. And of course, she didn't need to hear the details now. Or ever – if it was going to heal eventually, it was fine.

He smiled. "If he heard it at all. You need to feel your ribs and see if there are any sensitive areas and how bad it is. It's not broken, but still, the bruises gonna need time to get better. Maybe a few more days."

"I will," she promised, getting to her feet to stand before him. "How's my head look? Bigger than usual?" Said in jest, though she was curious to know how the cut had healed. Her head didn't hurt anymore, except those moments she accidentally touched the wound itself, so that seemed promising.

"The bruise only gets worse with time until it fades, you know that," he said, smiling, and leaned closer to see through the bandaids. "The cut looks better, though. Not infected, so all praise the Mexican moonshine. If we could soak our ribs in it, we'd be already healed."

He winked and strolled for the bushes.

Alicia smiled, reassured by his assessment, and watched him head for the line of trees and shrubs Troy had made use of earlier. Like it was their designated pee-spot. Turning her back, she shrugged out of her jacket and lifted the hem of her shirt to give a quick examination of her torso. There were indeed bruises blossoming on her left side and the skin beneath the line of her bra, but it didn't look too bad. Like Nick said, they would fade in time.

Using one of the spare water bottles Troy filled up the jeep's radiator to keep the engine from becoming toast, disposing of the bottle into the clearing. There was nowhere else to get rid of it and to carry it around until they found a place was senseless. That wasn't the world anymore, and he doubted a hippie was going to be ballsy enough to appear from the depth of the woods declaring that Troy was polluting and attempt to fine him. Or worse. It was too late for that, and he suspected, in part, the reason all of this apocalypse bullshit was happening, to begin with.

Troy snapped the hood closed and made a mental note to try and find oil on their next stop at a gas station. If they didn't find any, they were going to be forced to change vehicles, and he was quite fond of the space in this one.

He reclaimed the driver's seat, waiting on the Clark siblings to finish their morning ritual before driving them off and out of the private area Alicia had found the day before to find the interstate again.

When Nick returned from his bush detour, Troy was already in the car ready to drive on. They climbed in and made use of their protein bars as Otto steered back to the Interstate.

The next few hours on the road were relatively quiet. Troy and Nick exchanged words every now and then, but Alicia didn't pay much attention, finding some serenity in the unusual calmness of her own mind. She wanted to take advantage of that before something stirred all her worries again.

When she saw the outline of a gas station up ahead a little later, Alicia leaned forward in her seat so she wouldn't need to scream for the two up front to hear her over the music.

"Should we stop? Check for more fuel?"

"Definitely," Troy stated. That had already been his plan. They needed more water for the radiator and oil was a must – if they could help it.

Only the deeper in or higher north they got, the more hazardous it appeared. Not with people as of yet although he knew they had to be out there somewhere, but with the dead.

They were everywhere, shuffling from hiding as the jeep sailed past at a formerly decent speed limit. Any faster and they'd burn fuel faster and this whole thing would get even more complicated than it already was.

Troy didn't like the idea of risking what they owned when unlike at the ranch there was nothing with which to replace it.

When they reached the gas station, they immediately alerted the fifteen or so dead wandering back and forth amidst a crush of abandoned vehicles. If Troy had to take into account the state of their decomposition, they almost looked fresh. Weeks old instead of months.

He rolled the jeep to a stop a short distance away and considered.

"Are you guys up to it or should we push on?"

"Oh yeah, if you don't mind us stinking up your car."

"Might as well," Alicia reasoned. "Don't know when the next opportunity will be."

For fuel, that was. Not killing.

Nick smiled and stepped out, pulling his knife out. He picked the closest walker, made a quick job of stabbing him in the temple, trying to ignore the pain and how his breath kept catching in his throat at every throe in his chest.

Nick sliced the blade down the corpse's stomach and performed his habitual routine. The other dead were upon him already, but they slowed down, crowded around him, as though they no longer saw him as anything worthy of attention.

No longer hasty - which was a blessing for his pains – Nick pulled the jacket off the corpse, then another one off the next one he stabbed. He tossed them on the hood of the car for later use, then went back into the wandering crowd, taking them down one by one.

Alicia followed her brother outside, unsheathing her knife, and called out to the dead who had gathered around him. A few of them broke away and came for her. She took a few steps back, leading them away from the herd and taking them down whenever they came within her reach.

She didn't cover herself in the putrid blood of the dead as her brother had, so she had to move with a sense of urgency to ensure no one would take a bite out of her as she worked. All in all, it was far from the worst encounter she had experienced.

Unlike with the people Alicia knew who had turned, putting down the corpses wearing strangers' faces no longer brought any guilt to her heart. It had almost become routine. Like pulling weeds from a garden.

Nick had to know Troy wasn't asking because of the stench or because it wasn't a good idea, he was asking because there were a lot of the dead and the siblings were still injured. It had only been twenty-four hours since both had almost died, and Troy wasn't naïve enough to think that either were fully up to speed.

He replicated their action and got out of the car, unsheathing his knife, heading for the crowd Nick had gathered, yanking one away from him onto its back before driving a knife through its skull.

Troy picked off another and played with this one. He drove a knife into the dead's hand, slicing off a couple of fingers as he did, and dodged the clumsy attempts to grab at him, enjoying the dance and dodge of death. After delivering a kick to the wasted's knee and sending him on a one-way ticket to the ground, Troy stomped on the back of his head, repeating it harder a second time until the dead stopped wriggling.

With the three of them working in tandem, they rid themselves of the walking dead quickly.

Troy flicked the blood off the knife, bending to wipe it clean on the corpse, and then returned it to his side, stepping over the body to go in search of the items they needed.

Once the mob was taken care of, Nick went straight to the store. There wasn't much left, but a couple of huge water bottles for a cooler were hidden in a storage room. That was a lucky break.

Alicia briefly followed her brother into the store, but unlike him stayed close to the exit, searching the aisle that would have held motor oils, windscreen wipers, sponges, and the like. It was close to picked clean, but she did find some empty plastic petrol cans she carried back out to Troy in case they were lucky enough that the abandoned vehicles weren't depleted.

Nick checked the restroom. The tap was barely trickling. He washed his face and hands, then returned to his companions, dragging one of the cooler bottles.

"Anyone checked for fuel? There's another one back there, by the way."

"Nice," Alicia flashed Nick a genuinely pleased smile and headed back inside to pick up the large bottle he'd left behind. It was damn heavy. In fact, she was a little embarrassed how quickly her arms tired from hauling the container back outside. She would blame it on her injuries, but in truth, she thought she just lacked the raw strength when her adrenaline wasn't wreaking havoc.

Still, she managed to carry it all the way to the car and slide it into the back next to the one Nick had brought, bracing herself against the flatbed once she finished to regain her composure.

While they'd been busy inside the convenience store, Troy popped the trunks on the vehicles one by one and riffled through them. There was quite a bit of stuff.

Unfortunately, not much in the food department.

Troy found a set of radios. A device in each vehicle as if they'd been communicating with each other, and a solitary charger. Where would they even have used them? Did where they were coming from have electricity?

He rifled through the dashboard, removing the map loosely tucked inside, trying to gauge if there were any markers or pointers to say where they were from.

There was nothing. They were simply moving ghosts.

He folded up the piece of paper again carefully and tucked it into the back of his pants in case they'd need it or got lost, and turned to regard Nick as he appeared with a heavy bottle of water and Alicia with two empty containers.

Definite gold.

"You shoulda let Troy get it," Nick chided Alicia when she slumped against the flatbed almost breathless.

"It's like I did that push-up last year for nothing," Alicia joked, turning to look back at Troy over her shoulder.

Troy eased out of the car, and checked the pump attached, pressing at the trigger and watching the machine to see if the numbers rolled.

Nothing happened.

He removed the pump, repeated what he did, and then clipped it back into place before trying again.

"Empty," he stated, returning to the car again to clean the radio, leaving the second tank to someone else. "I've found some clothes though and these radios that might come in handy. It only looks like one works for now. We'll have to try and find a generator to juice the rest overnight."

They turned when Troy announced there was no gas. It would be a shame to have to abandon their "ship", but this was an Interstate, where gas stations were most likely drained a while ago.

"We need to search smaller roads for fuel," Nick said. "Generators are even rarer species."

Nick was right. They needed to hit the spots where no one had been before them. "That a local map you found?" Alicia asked Troy. She could have sworn she saw him pull one from the glove compartment in one of the abandoned cars.

"Looks like it," he said, removing the map from where he'd tucked it away, handing it over to Alicia. "I figure these people were rolling together, ran out of resources—probably food—since I didn't find anything in any of the cars as of yet." Once she took it, he carried the radios over to the jeep, dumping them onto the backseat, and returned to one of the cars to search through the clothing for a new shirt or even a fresh pair of jeans.

Nick shrugged off his marred jacket and put on one of those he took off the dead. He folded the dirty one inward for a future fight and tossed it on the dashboard. The third one went into the trunk.

"So we taking a smaller road, or it's maybe smarter to actually get to that cabin and then venture out in search of gas? I don't think we'll benefit from looking for that cabin in the woods when it's dark 'cause we wasted time running around and spending even more fuel trying to find some."

Alicia unfolded the map on the flatbed, eyeing the roads she knew they had taken, until she thought she could nail down where they currently were. Just about, anyway.

"Might be best," she agreed with Nick, keeping her eyes on the map.

Troy removed a t-shirt with a Bart Simpson decal, frowning as he eyed the cartoon, half amused and half disgusted that it was the only option.

He missed his fatigues.

He hung it over his forearm, along with a high school sports shirt and a pair of jeans he planned to substitute once the pair he was wearing got stiff with blood or in need of trashing.

"You guys might want to see if there is anything else you want in the fashion department. There's quite a bit. I think these people were coming from their homes," he stated as he joined them to take a look.

Who knew when next they'd get this kind of shopping opportunity?

"Troy say how much gas we've got left?" Keeping one finger on their current location and the other on the area the cabin was supposed to be located, Alicia looked up to meet her brother's gaze. "Do we have enough to make it there?"

Nick waved in Troy's direction as he approached. "You gotta ask him yourself."

Troy tossed the clothes into the back of the jeep on top of the radios, retrieved the empty canisters that Alicia had found, and put them on the flatbed. "Did you guys see any packets of wood being sold inside? How about the oil?"

"Nope," Nick said, "didn't see any wood. Or oil. Or anything. We need some better hidden gas stations."

He heeded the advice and walked over to the cars, rummaged through their clothes selection, picked a couple of shirts, a pair of pants that seemed more or less his size, then tossed it all in the trunk.

"We won't find that on the interstate," Troy reasoned in response to Nick's statement.

Alicia followed in her brother's wake to take a look through the abandoned suitcases and heaps of clothing. Like the boys, she found a few items that would do – a pair of jeans, some tank tops, and a warm sweater. She'd secretly been hoping for some new boots as her current ones had a habit of chafing the back of her heel, but there were none. She paused a moment over a pretty little sundress, however. Obviously not something she could wear in this brutal new world, but it looked a lot like one of her favorite dresses from back home. She'd worn it the first time she and Matt…

She forced herself off memory lane, throwing the dress back onto the pile and returning to the jeep with the items that would actually be of use.

"How far can we make it with our current tank?" Alicia asked. "Shouldn't be more than two or three hours till the cabin, right?"

"We've got thirty miles left in the tank give or take." Troy didn't like those odds and definitely wasn't fond of the idea of abandoning the jeep if it were to come to that. It was sturdy and the closest thing at this very moment in time he could look at as a military vehicle. "I'll see if I can siphon some fuel from the cars."

He unsheathed his knife and headed around the side of the station building in search of a hosepipe, anything they might have used to rinse off the tarmac or wash their cars.

He returned a few minutes later empty-handed. "No luck. Anyone else find anything useful?"

Nick took a gulp of water, then handed him the bottle.

"No. We should get going. If there's any new station – we check. If not, we better get to that cabin and then look if any cars are in the parking lot. We still got out feet, so we'll do some trips."

He screwed the cap back on the bottle when Troy finished and tossed it on the backseat.

Oh, how Alicia missed Google Maps which could probably have told her how many gas stations were between their current location and the intended destination. The map Troy had found was useless in that regards. She folded it gently, anyway, and handed it to Nick, assuming he'd still take the seat up front.

She climbed into the back, helped herself to some water from her own bottle and finished it.

Troy gave the lot a final once-over, hopeful something would jump out at him and provide with the help he wanted, and then climbed in the car.

He wasn't fond of surrender.

* * *

They drove eighteen miles before the car started choking up black smoke and eventually ran dry, forcing Troy to pull over onto the side of the road.

"Fuck," he cursed, thumping the steering wheel with the flat of his hand. He toyed with the keys in the ignition, trying to see if the fuel gauge needle would jump.

It didn't even flicker.

They were still over sixty miles from the cabin.

He heaved a sigh, removed the keys from the ignition, and got out to stretch his legs, to see what lay beyond the trees that outlined the sides of the road like a barricade.

There were no homes, no farms or industrial buildings that he could make out or see in the near vicinity. They were quite literally in the middle of nowhere.

He opened the backdoor and rummaged around for his bag, taking out the few things he didn't feel was needed for this particular trip and he felt he could do without if they couldn't come back for the jeep.

Although that was a serious 'what if' scenario.

They would come back.

"Are you going to be able to walk?" he asked, peering at the two, knowing they'd been quite good otherwise, surprisingly so actually, but that a couple of miles with zero rest could take a strain on the body. "Or maybe you should stay with the car. Protect it."

Nick observed the car, pinching a cigarette between his lips and lighting it. He pondered their chances. They didn't look good.

"Well, the problem is, we piled too much stuff into that car, and now Troy here is gonna cry if we leave it. This is why I hate to collect stuff. Since we don't know about the cabin, we shouldn't discard the car. So maybe I should go find another gas station or a ride. It can't be too hard. Maybe we're up for a lucky break."

"Don't act like we don't need this stuff to survive," Troy chided. "Food, water, guns, security. I know you like to pretend none of that is a necessity and walk through life caked in shit but there are other options. Besides, you'll thank me and your sister when you have toilet paper to wipe your ass the next time you get the runs."

Nick smirked, took a drag, exhaled smoke, and reached into the backseat for the half-full bottle of water.

"You might wanna check in another direction. It's an Interstate, there should be cars."

What Alicia was hearing was that they were splitting up, and though she didn't particularly like it, she also trusted Nick to take care of himself. He had a habit of getting himself into trouble, but also the uncanny ability to get out of it.

"So I take it I stay?" she said, climbing out as well, hands on her hips as she threw a look at her surroundings.

"Just stay here, watch the car, get some rest and I'll be back before you can miss me," Troy said.

He glanced between the two as if to make it clear and to let them choose what do to with themselves, and headed to the back of the jeep to grab an empty container for fuel.

"So," he said once he'd gotten everything he needed. "What are you doin'?"

Nick stomped on the cigarette butt he had discarded and scoffed, amused and annoyed at the same time.

"I dunno what WE are doing, but I am going to scout the area. I'm not babysitting your car."

He put on the bloody jacket and closed the passenger door.

"We can't cover sixty miles to that cabin, but we can do some to find what we need."

He gave Troy a parting smile as he started away, then thought of something and looked back over his shoulder, stopping.

"You sure just one radio works? Seems like we could use those."

"Sure. I checked them," Troy said, fighting the urge to argue with him, to tell him that, of the three of them, he was the last person needed to be out in the open and exposed.

Nick was hurt – he had to act like it. If something happened he'd be of no use to anyone, and worse off – dead.

As much as Alicia enjoyed Nick giving Troy a hard time, she didn't want it if the cost was her brother's wellbeing. But Nick was stubborn, and trying to stop him from doing something when he'd set his mind to it would be useless. He'd always been that way. Even when they were kids.

"An hour!" she called in Nick's direction. "Be back or I do something stupid!"

Troy kept himself glued in place and turned away once Nick started walking again, to face Alicia.

"Was there anything distinct on the map that you saw to show what was out here? More roads deeper in, maybe?"

She considered Troy's question and rounded the car, leaning into the passenger seat to grab the map Nick had abandoned. Placing it on the hood, she unfolded it to make closer examinations.

"I don't recall. But Jake did tell me he used to stop for food at a truck stop a few hours before the cabin." There had been something about one of the waitresses there being 'insanely hot', and Jake's friends had always insisted they stop by whenever they were in the area. Alicia was sure Jake hadn't minded at all, but he'd kept that information to himself. "So there might be something up ahead."

* * *

Since the radios were no good, Nick kept on walking, cracking a smile at Alicia's threat. It was cute, but in reality, stupid wasn't her weapon of choice. Ever.

It wasn't such a great idea to be hiking with his chest problems, but he still tried to establish some pace that made the whole job easier. It wasn't too hot, and the sun was somewhat behind his back, so nature was helping. He took a sip of water after a while, then looked back, and didn't see the car, anymore. There was barely anything at all around, like he suddenly found himself on a planet where no humans ever lived.

After a mile or two, there was something on the horizon resembling a house. He picked up his pace some, but not to the extent of collapsing a few yards short of his target. It was a small gas station and a store with three infected in it. He took them down and refreshed his disguise. The store was almost empty. It was ridiculous. In the gas pumps, however, there seemed to be something left. Maybe a canister or two – if he had canisters.

Nick searched the place and found no gas canisters, but two empty water ones. They had to do. The two cars parked at the store were cleaned out same as the store.

He took the empty plastic containers out, went for the pumps, then stopped in his tracks. There was something to the side of the road ahead. At first, he thought it was a deer, but as he looked longer, he recognized a horse. He dropped the containers on the ground, and stared at the animal in confusion. It looked so damn lonely and scared. It watched him with its ears perked. Perhaps it had already learned that not all of what seemed human acted it, anymore. It wasn't running away, however, which gave Nick a silly idea that it hoped he wasn't one of those bad ones.

He glanced back at the two cars, pondered fueling one of them, pondered whether they could even start – there was no telling if their batteries worked. Then he went past the pumps and toward the prairie framing the Interstate. The horse jerked as if to run, but only made a few hurried steps back, still watching him, ears perked. Nick still looked like shit and smelled like someone who would attack. He wasn't sure the animal could see him all that well, but if he tried to approach, it would flee.

Indulging a weird hunch, Nick clicked his tongue once, twice. The horse's ears flicked, it shifted on its legs. He did again, slowly creeping toward it. It was scared, all right, and it fell a few steps back a few times, but eventually, Nick wiped his hand on his shirt where it was more or less clean of blood, and held it out. The horse pondered, then let him put his hand on its nose. He stroked, whispering 'It's okay', and it relaxed a little. It was a steed, and he seemed to be tired of fright.

The steed wore a halter on his head, which was lucky. Nick led him back to the gas station, surveying the area for a farmhouse or something where this horse might have come from. There was nothing but the shrubs under the sun. Having no choice, Nick risked leaving the stallion on the parking lot and went inside the store, looking back and expecting the horse to run. The stallion tried to follow Nick, which made Clark's chest contract with sympathy. The animal must be happy to see someone who didn't try to eat him. This new world was a bad place for a domesticated horse.

Nick searched the three bodies and pulled a belt from one of them. He slipped it through the halter, locked into a loop and put an arm through it, leading his new buddy with him to the pumps. He filled the plastic canisters, then shrugged off his jacket, binding the canisters to it by the sleeves. He hauled it onto the horse. The horse didn't seem to mind.

So they started their walk back.

* * *

Nick walked ahead of Troy, limping subtly as if he was continually compensating for some pain he refused to acknowledge, lost in his own world. Troy assumed that he'd drift off into the trees and hover in a space close enough to help his sister if anything was to go wrong, but he didn't.

He kept going.

After a few minutes of silent contemplation, Troy decided that it was stupid to be walking in the same direction—especially if they weren't together—and veered off the interstate into the thicket of trees.

For a time, it was nothing but him, nature, and a few dead.

He took care of them on principle, harboring the same logic that he used to in the past that they might make their way to Alicia, toward the car and stir trouble that she might not be inclined for or see coming.

Who knew if she was already taking care of her own?

He checked their pockets for any trinkets, and when he found none, he moved on. He'd been walking for an hour and a half when he came upon what he knew was a man-made pond meant to water cattle. The lazy man's trough.

He removed his bag, tossed it onto the grass out of the way of getting wet, and crouched beside it, splashing his face, cooling off as much as he could before returning to claim a bottle of water. Troy took a deep sip to silence the stirrings of hunger, tempted to strip and float for a while, aware that despite the touch of heat, there wasn't time for that and he had to keep walking.

There was only a couple of hours left of sunlight and if he didn't make it back in time, he didn't doubt that Alicia would abandon him. Nick he assumed would be hesitant at first if he made it back before Troy with fuel, but then he'd ultimately do what was best for her. She was his family. His blood. And that prioritized everything else. Troy got it, too, as his family had had the same kind of staple in the past. Like he did now. A clean transference.

Troy approached the small holding, studying the cattle grazing around the house as if this simple stretch of land was untouched by the ugliness of the outside world. Even the fencing was intact. At least if you discounted the dead that had been shredded in the barbed wire and sat within the loops like a bear caught in a trap. They were mangled, flesh hanging off their faces in strips, one's eye caught on one of the razors like skewered olive.

They were still moving. He drove his knife into their skulls.

He approached the gate, attempted to undo the intricate latch and found it to be locked from the inside. He studied the small house. It appeared abandoned, dead, and then a lick of silver appeared in the window, reflected by the sun before a bullet hit the post a couple inches from Troy's arm.

He ducked and dropped to the ground, crawling away as another shot rang out, quickly finding a place where he could take cover and arm himself with his handgun.

* * *

Alicia grabbed the rifle from the back of the jeep as Troy disappeared down the road, and swung the strap onto her shoulder, proceeding to close all the doors. If anyone were to come by and on the off-chance didn't shoot her on sight, they didn't need to advertise their supplies. Food and water could turn even the gentlest souls into beasts these days.

She returned to the hood of the car, eyeing the map, trying to compare the winding roads with the ones Jake had shown her on his map back at the ranch. This one appeared to be older, and she could have sworn Jake's version had more markers, more newly developed roads. Not that it mattered much now.

Every sound had her looking up, casting surveying looks up and down the road to ensure no vehicles were approaching, and that none of the walking dead snuck up on her. It was quiet, but she felt more nervous now than when she had been guarding her own supplies when she was alone. Because if she were to fail in her mission, it wouldn't just be her life affected. It could mean potential death for Nick and Troy, too.

Time passed painfully slow. Alicia changed into her 'new' jeans and tank top, packing her old clothes away in the hopes she might eventually be able to wash them.

When more than an hour had gone, she began to feel a slight sense of fear. She hadn't expected either of them to be back on the dot, but her mind still reeled with the various possibilities of scenarios that could have befallen the two. None of them pleasant. And how long would she allow herself to wait before she went in search of them? Two hours? More? She wasn't sure she'd be able to stand it for that long.

In the end, she got in on the driver's side, just because standing was making her feet ache more than they had to. She rested her head against the steering wheel until she saw something out of the corner of her eye. Movement. She turned to look and caught sight of her brother approaching… with a horse in tow.

 _What the hell?_

Alicia hesitated all but a moment before she got out again, moving in front of the jeep to watch Nick with wide eyes.

"We are not killing a horse for food!"

It was the first horrific thought that came to mind.

Nick chortled, staring at Alicia with amused disbelief for a speechless moment.

"If you think it's why I brought him with me, I should be insulted, Lisha."

He displayed an exaggerated scowl and pulled the canisters bound by his jacket off the horse's back, wincing.

"We got some gas. And I couldn't drag it on me. The horse was lonely, so he tagged along."

Alicia moved forward to help Nick with his load, relief that he had found the fuel they needed temporarily overridden by the other surprise he had brought with him.

"Where did you find him? Is he hurt?"

"He seems fine," Nick replied, unscrewing the canister's cap, and lifted it to pour into the tank. "Scared shitless, but fine."

Alicia kept hold of the horse while Nick moved back to the car, stroking him carefully, almost reverently. She missed horses. Missed riding them, grooming them, even just seeing them.

"Poor thing. Had his whole world turned upside down."

"Must be from a farm or a ranch somewhere, or maybe a horseback riding base, but I didn't see anything like that around. He was just wandering aimlessly, scared of all that moves."

Nick put down the empty canister and reached for another.

"I hope we don't have to go search for Troy. How long has he been gone?"

"He left just after you did," she said absentmindedly, carefully undoing a tangle in the horse's mane and adding as an afterthought: "We should send the horse on his way before Troy comes back."

Nick smiled to himself, pouring the last of the gas in, then put the canister down and approached the horse. He undid the belt, pulled it from the halter on his muzzle, then patted his neck and leaned into him to push him away. The horse fell back a few steps, but then returned back closer to them like a loyal dog.

Nick spread his arms briefly as if saying There you go. "He won't agree with that."

"There's no guarantee Troy won't consider him our next meal. He's a survivalist farmer and a sociopath to boot. Did you hear the bunny story?"

Jake had told Alicia one night, and the thought of it still made her blood boil.

* * *

Troy stayed low to the ground and watched for movement from the small holding, expecting whoever it was to show face.

They never did.

Smart.

There was no way to tell who it was or how many. He checked the ammo on his handgun and seriously considered fighting it out. If they were holed up, it meant there was something to protect.

But what? If it was just Troy, his boys, he'd have suggested they stormed the palace and checked. He was with a different crew now, a different set of people that wouldn't appreciate that kind of sentiment and already said as much.

He cast a final glance at the place, and narrowly started away, being careful to guard his back. He hadn't seen anything else out there, and if he went any deeper, he wouldn't make it back in time. Troy decided to head back empty-handed.

* * *

Nick smirked grimly and took a gulp of water.

"Yeah, I have. But a bunny's not a horse. I'm not saying we should keep it, but... Well, I shouldn't have brought it, but I didn't wanna bother with another car. When he didn't run away from me, I went with it."

An idea came to him, making him look at her cunningly. He held the belt out to her.

"If you feel okay for it, you two can go see if Troy's coming. I know you want to."

A smile bloomed on her face, subtle at first, then cracked in a full-blown grin. He knew her well.

Alicia shifted the rifle to lay across her back, taking the belt from Nick to fasten it on the horse's bridle. She led the horse off the road so they could walk along the grassy field instead of the hard asphalt. It would be better for his hooves.

The animal didn't seem to be starving despite the fact he obviously no longer had anyone to take care of him. There was plenty of grass and weeds this time of year, and he clearly had not had much trouble finding water, either. Perhaps there were some streams around here? Ponds?

"Give me a leg up?"

Nick went after her and helped her up. A wave of pain traveled through him, stealing his breath for a long moment.

Seeing Alicia's face light up as she sat on the horse made him smile. She looked like a kid who hadn't received any Christmas gifts for years and suddenly got one.

"Just please be careful," he pleaded. "There was no saddle where I found him."

Alicia looked at the horse's neck before her, stroking it. He didn't seem to mind a rider, and that was good.

"What do I do? Leave him in the forest or bring him back here?" She didn't like either of the options, but it wasn't as if they had many others. They couldn't take him with.

"Good luck leaving him in the forest, but I don't think you can outrun him. Just find Troy if you can and tell him we should go asap."

She nodded and was about to urge the horse onwards, but hesitated.

"Please don't get in any trouble while I'm gone," she begged, eyeing her big brother with some doubt. "Arm yourself at least?"

She knew he probably wouldn't, but she had to try anyway. She squeezed the horse's sides gently with her legs, and he started walking. It felt weird at first. It had been quite some time since she was last on a horse. But she soon fell back into familiar habits, and before they reached the line of trees she had seen Troy venture off into earlier, they were off in a trot.

She swept branches aside as the horse slowed and maneuvered his way into the forest, careful to not let them catch on her rifle as they passed. It was easier inside, more space to roam and fewer pine needles.

Troy had been gone for quite some time and she didn't plan on going as deep as he probably had. If she knew herself well enough, that would only lead to her losing her way. But Alicia kept a wary eye out for him while enjoying the tranquility of the forest and the gentle rise and fall of the horse's shoulders beneath her.

* * *

Being lost or even close to it wasn't the norm for Troy, and nor was it now, so when after forty minutes of walking the immediate sound of rustling hit him, he took to hiding. Suspecting that whoever had been firing at him from the house might have maneuvered around him. The shooter did know the terrain better than Troy, and the dead had an individual shuffle that was predominantly clumsy.

This was different. Steady and acquainted.

A horse.

Troy removed the handgun from where he'd tucked it against his side and pressed his back against a large tree, using it as cover, listening to see how many people there might be before emerging behind them. Although he was familiar with her front, Troy was even more so with her back – despite the change in clothes.

"Alicia?" he asked, loud enough to be heard above the animal's hoofs, the gun pointed at her back for the sole purpose of confirmation and threat if he happened to be wrong.

His voice startled her. Alicia pulled on the horse's makeshift reins to stop him and looked over her shoulder to see Troy on the path behind her, gun raised.

She urged the horse to turn, and he followed her directions without hesitation.

"One and only," she said, somewhat uneased by his gun and choosing not to move closer until he lowered it. "You okay?"

Troy lowered the gun soon after she'd turned to face him and snapped the safety back on. "Just paranoid. There's a small holding a few miles from here and its owner isn't the welcoming type."

His warning had her survey their surroundings with more caution than before, but they seemed to be alone. On the other hand, she hadn't noticed Troy until he sprung out on her, either. She needed to be more careful in the future.

He returned the gun to the side of his hip and walked toward her, extending a hand toward the animal she was riding, slowly approaching him as not to spook him.

"Where'd you find a horse?"

"Nick found him. Used him to haul the fuel back to the car. Should be more than enough to make it the cabin now."

She hesitated a moment before preparing to get off the horse's back.

"Need a break from the walking?"

She didn't truly care much about his comfort, per se, but she wasn't stupid. Right now Troy was the strongest of their group, and though she hated to admit it, she and Nick had a better chance at survival with him by their side than alone.

Troy touched a hand to the horse's muzzle, stilling once he drew back, hesitant, letting him come forth again. It took the animal a moment, but he eventually did.

"I'm okay," Troy stated, surprised by her offer but appreciative. "Everything okay at the car or were you just concerned something had happened to me?"

Alicia stilled again when he declined her offer before finally urging the horse forth again. He started walking beside them.

"Nick was worried," she said. "I wanted a ride."

Troy smiled slightly, appeased that he was worried. When was the last time someone in the Otto family had verbalized that to his face? Troy thought, at times Jeremiah and Jake prayed he wouldn't come back so that their problems or those assumed difficulties that he brought could be buried.

"Well, don't let me keep you. It's not every day we get to indulge," he gestured ahead, subtly suggesting that she run back or go at a speed that wasn't an idle trot. "Go for it. I'll meet you back at the car."

Alicia considered that a moment, searching her instincts for whether or not she had some obligation to stay with him. It didn't feel like she did.

"Okay," she said, taking off at a light trot. She never let the steed go into a gallop, however, a voice in the back of her mind chiding her for even riding the horse in the first place. As soon as they left, he'd be completely unprotected again and needed all the strength and energy he could get. With that in mind, she slid off his back just before reaching the edge of the forest, saving herself the trouble of combating the upper branches. She led him out, and once they were at the field and she could see the Jeep in the distance, she undid Nick's belt from the halter, allowing the horse to go on his way.

By the time she made it back to Nick, the animal was still close on her heel. It was going to be tough leaving him.

Nick was leaning against the car, smoking, when Alicia appeared in the distance. She was walking, and it appeared she had the belt dangling in her hand. The horse was behind her, keeping up like a good dog. It made him laugh, but there was also pity for the poor animal. Maybe he shouldn't have approached it, but there was no way to tell if that was worse or better. He just did what he did.

"I take it you didn't find Troy?" he called when she was in the hearing distance.

"He's coming," she called back, waiting until they were close before speaking further. "He shouldn't be long."

She pulled the rifle-strap over her head and moved to put the gun back in Troy's arsenal.

Nick was smoking like clean air offended him, and though Alicia didn't comment, it got her thinking. Was he that worried about Troy? Or was it to soothe something else? Hunger? Pain? All of the above? She doubted she'd get a sincere answer if she were to ask. Despite Nick having promised to keep her in the loop from now on, she knew her brother. He would try and shield her from the details he didn't deem important enough to worry her.

Troy reached the jeep twenty minutes later, finishing off his water bottle as he approached the two, studying the horse who'd been loitering close by as if he belonged.

"There's no possible way we can keep him."

Nick chuckled at his comment and stomped on the cigarette butt.

"Well, he seems to be willing to be kept," he said, smirking, and walked around for the passenger's door. "He just doesn't wanna be alone, anymore. He's scared. And it's not fair in the slightest. The world sucks these days, more so for those who don't understand."

Troy's return shifted Alicia's attention back on the horse. He was grazing peacefully on the side of the road, and though she was tempted to move in for one last cuddle, she didn't. It'd only make things harder for both of them.

"It does suck," she agreed somberly and made for the backseat.

Another time or maybe even in the past Troy'd have found as much amusement in what the two siblings made of the horse's antics, but not now. He couldn't. If anything, the creature would inevitably die. Be it from starvation or because a walker overpowered it. Troy could kill it and save it from future misery, but he doubted either of his friends would care for that. He shrugged off the bag and tossed it in the back, putting the empty container he'd been carrying with him in its place on the flatbed.

"You've already added the fuel?" he asked as he approached the driver's side.

"Yeah. There was a bit more left in the pump, but I only found two canisters and one horse, so we gotta stop by that next gas station and get the rest."

Nick looked at the horse, feeling guilty. As if there was any more guilt he would want to carry around.

"What wouldn't I give for one of those horse transporters. Damn shame. He'll die on his own. Especially after reinstalling some trust in humans. He'll take an infected for one."

Alicia briefly followed Nick's gaze, chewing on her bottom lip. "Even if we could take him with us there'd come a time when we'd be forced to leave him behind," she said before closing the door on her side. Saying the truth didn't make any of this feel any better, though.

Troy watched the siblings with mixed feelings. They debated the horse's existence as if it were an option, as if they had a choice in the matter. It took a lot to keep a horse fed and watered, and they could barely keep themselves going – even if they did have a bit more than they originally did. They were only just starting out, and the horse might be the incentive needed to get Nick to agree to build a fortress.

"How far is the gas station from here?"

Nick considered. "About thirty-forty minutes walk. Why? It's right on our way, can't miss it."

"I'll take the horse," Troy said. "That's where you found him, right? His home might be around there. He'll stand a better chance."

Troy showing uncharacteristic signs of kindness? Alicia was intrigued. And suspicious.

He turned back to the horse before Nick could argue or debate, moving to reacquaint himself with the friendly creature. Once he was sure the animal was approachable, Troy used the wheel of the jeep as a ladder and eased himself onto his back, fingers lacing through the mane, heels tapping at the flanks to nudge him into motion ahead of them.

"There was nothing around there," Nick said, and started around the car for the driver's door. "I think he came from some other place, which could be anywhere. Even Jake's cabin – if there was a horseback riding base for tourists. Was there?"

Alicia climbed into the front passenger seat and propped her feet up on the dashboard, watching the horse and Troy's retreating forms. "No idea. Jake didn't mention anything about it, nor did the map."

Though maps rarely did, unless they were made special for tourist attractions.

"We'll find out the usual way, then," Nick said, starting the Jeep, and closed the door. They pulled from the curb and accelerated after Troy. Nick didn't keep the high speed, however, and let the car ride slower in case he had missed anything worthy on either side of the Interstate.

They caught up with Otto in fifteen minutes and parked at one of the pumps.

Troy didn't look back as he pulled ahead, giving another gentle kick to the horse's side, spurring him faster until he went from trot to full-fledged gallop.

The ride wasn't smooth but was fun, nonetheless, and by the time Troy found the gas station and got off the horse it felt as though his balls had been crushed, and trying to walk was a bit of an issue.

"Jesus," he cursed, pressing a hand to his groin, massaging, convinced that if he was to keep that up he'd have to find a saddle for the thing or something else that he could use to make it.

"Fill it up?" Nick asked Alicia before stepping out of the car. He took the key with him as he did and pushed it into Troy's hand when he walked past him. "Gotta check the store again in case I missed something. I coulda – didn't have enough hands or horses, anyway."

"'Kay." She got out and flipped the lid to the tank open.

Troy slid his hand from his crotch and took the car keys as Nick coaxed them into his open hand, following him with his eyes as he headed for the store again.

One look at Troy shuffling beside the horse told Alicia he was in some awkward pain, and she tried not to smile at that, busying herself with the pump to make sure they got what remained of the fuel here. It was enough to fill the tank. She wasn't sure how much more the pump contained, so she briefly abandoned it to fetch one of the petrol cans in the back of the car.

It didn't yield any fantastic results, not even filling a fourth of the can, but she screwed the cap back on and packed it anyway.

The three infected Nick had killed were still there. He checked them again and took another's belt. There was nothing significant at the cash register. Just a box of bubble gum, some mint sweets, a couple of cigarettes blocks and useless money.

Troy headed to the car to dump the weapons out of the container onto the Jeep's floor, and filled it with water from one of the large bottles Nick had found earlier.

Not a lot, but enough.

He carried it over to the horse and set it down before him, moving to prop himself against the bumper. The horse didn't go to it at once, cautious, and then eventually surrendered, suckling at it hungrily.

Once more Alicia found herself surprised by Troy's kind treatment of the animal, and for some reason, it shook her more than she would have liked. It was easier to hate someone when they were evil through and through, when their every action was villainous. It became increasingly harder to hold onto the disgust she had felt towards this man yesterday. And that, in turn, pissed her off. She didn't want to let go of her anger. Troy did not deserve her forgiveness nor trust.

Nick dropped his meager findings in the trunk and observed them. "So what, we done here?"

Alicia tore her gaze off the man and horse and shut the back door to the Jeep, turning to her brother. "Pumps are empty, so I guess so."

When the horse had had his fill, Troy popped the hood on the jeep, picked up the container and emptied what he could of what remained into the radiator. Without a funnel, the task wasn't easy, but he managed not to waste too much. He flipped it over in a feeble attempt to dry it out, and slipped the weapons back into it before replacing it on its designated space on the cooler.

"What are we doing with our shadow?" he asked, assuming they'd have thought on the subject a bit longer and decided whether or not they planned to let him go or if Troy should simply shoot him and save him the misery of being eaten alive.

Nick didn't know what to tell him. He looked at the horse, pondering. The steed would meet his doom sooner or later, and it would be worse than if they put him down. But Nick knew if he had to do or watch it done, something in him would die. He wasn't prepared for such. He had no parts of his remaining soul to spare.

"Well, either we bind him to the car by whatever rope we can find anywhere or we leave him here, which would get him killed in a horrible way, or one of us rides him to Jake's cabin. Which won't be me."

Alicia braced one hand on the side of the car, squinting slightly against the sunlight. She didn't like any of their options, but the kindest one to the horse itself would be to take him with, preferably by riding there.

"What will we do with him when we get to the cabin?" she asked. "And what will we do with him when we leave?"

Presumably, they would leave at some point. She didn't foresee them holing up at Jake's cabin for years to come. And just as she worried what would happen to the horse if they left it behind, she worried about how much more pain her heart could take when he would inevitably die in front of them, either by their hand or the dead's.

She lowered her head slightly, thoughtful.

"If anyone's going to ride him for that distance it should be me," she said eventually, murmuring as an afterthought: "Seeing as I am the only one here not capable of getting testicular torsion."

She'd only heard about such a case once before during her volunteer days at the hospital, and one quick peek around the curtain as she had fetched the patient something to drink had been more than enough for her. She didn't need to see that again.

Troy's hand inadvertently went to his nut sack, rubbing, renewing the ache that had temporarily gone dormant. If they could they'd shrivel up and die at the thought of getting back on that horse without a saddle, and as much as he enjoyed it – he wasn't prepared to abuse them any more than he already had.

"Let's just get to the cabin first before we start worrying about what to do with him when we leave. We don't know what's going on out there. What we do know is ahead of us and on the road. You're going to have to be careful. He isn't a tank. Take it easy, take it slow and if anything looks even remotely like it's dangerous – we'll stop and take care of it. Got it?"

All he needed was for her to fall on the tarmac and her head to be cracked open like a melon. That would be a whole new drama and medical issue Troy doubted mouth-to-mouth would be able to solve.

He removed the keys from his pocket and climbed into the driver's seat, rolling down the window and turning on the ignition, waiting for them to prepare and join.

"He's right, Alicia," Nick said, "you don't play hero and don't ride into any dead. Keep off the road, we'll drive behind you to see you at all times. If there's any danger, we'll take care of it. And your priority's to stay alive and well. And careful with the groundhogs' holes. Horses break their legs, too." He looked at Troy. "I'll drive, you just… keep your legs up. Keep the pressure off, cowboy. But help her on the horse first."

Alicia pursed her lips, tried her best not to narrow her eyes at the two men who suddenly acted as if she didn't know the first thing about horses or this new world in general. Typical older sibling behavior. A comment she kept to herself as she reluctantly allowed Troy to give her a leg up and onto the horse.

As soon as Otto handed him the key, he slipped behind the wheel and started the car. They waited for Alicia to start out, and followed, adjusting the speed as she did to keep her ahead of them and in the view at all times.

Like before, the animal didn't seem to mind Alicia riding him, and didn't hesitate to follow her instructions. They started slowly until they could get off the asphalt and onto the road-adjacent fields. She urged the steed into a gallop, and for a while, that was their pace.

When he eventually slowed on his own accord, she let him do so, allowing him to walk for the next few minutes before he willingly set off in a trot again.

All the while, she could see the jeep out of the corner of her vision, and despite her earlier annoyance, felt safe in the knowledge her brother and Troy were keeping an eye out for her.

Troy made himself at home in the passenger seat and made a point of lifting his feet up onto the dashboard, offering his friend a brief smirk before focusing on the road ahead. They had fuel and a couple hours to kill before they reached their destination. Keeping the sound manageable, he turned on the radio and rolled through the channels, seeking music or a broadcast as he'd done when they were in Mexico.

There was nothing, not even anyone calling for help.

He guessed the panic was over and everyone was either fighting or surviving.

"How's the pain?" Troy asked, flicking off the radio, focusing on Nick as he steadily drove.

Nick shrugged. "Manageable. There's nothing you can do with bruised ribs but wait it out." He gave Troy a cunning smirk. "How's yours?"

"My balls, you mean? I'll probably never be able to procreate. But fine otherwise. Nothing time won't heal."

"Procreation's not on top of the list these days, so no pressure."

Nick watched Alicia for a while, thinking about the horse. He was almost regretting baiting it, but knew he couldn't very well walk away from an animal in distress. It was the hardest thing to do. Like walking away from a scared child.

"This horse's gonna help us search the area for more fuel once we're at Jake's."

"Is he?" Toy studied his friend, a lazy smile playing upon his lips with interest. "Before we get into that, don't you think we should consider finding it food first? We've got water covered for now."

"A horse will always find some grass," Nick reasoned. "He's not starved, he's been doing okay. And we're not heading for the desert, so he'll be fine there, too. Or you disagree, farm boy?"

"I am," Troy mused, offering up a smile since Nick had to know that considering he'd called Otto 'farm boy'. Troy did more than just kill the dead, and had been doing for a long time before the world even began to crumble at the seams. "The dead contaminate the earth. It ruins the soil and anything that grows in it. Who knows what that shit is doing to his system? If we can we should at least find him an alternative to mix it up with." Troy gave a slight shrug, fixing his eyes on the road ahead where she rode, unimpeded and at an almost graceful pace.

"I think you're panicking too early," Nick chortled. "It's not the first apocalypse for our Earth, nor the last. It regulates itself and all things that live on it. So have a little faith in your planet. Besides, people don't turn into nuclear waste when they die. The soil will be fine. Even better. The circle of life and death is what keeps it spinning."

Troy studied Nick with interest. He knew Clark was poetic of sorts, but Troy had never seen him as one of those naturalist hippies that believed faith would get them through the worst of times.

"It's not panic, it's called being prepared. We don't know what they turn into." A large portion of his scientific murders. All they knew for sure was that every one of them would eventually become one of those things until the next living person killed them for a final time or nature wiped them out. "We've seen what a bite can do, ingesting it is the same principle."

Troy'd never had the opportunity to test it on animals or to even see if they could get sick. But if this was, in fact, a genetic strain and created by nature — in holy they should trust — it would only be a matter of time.

"It's not about what it is, but what we can do about it," Nick said. "It's not a dog or a cat, and beyond that, I'm not an expert on how to tend to a horse. He'll have to do what he did before, find food as he did before. We can try to protect him from the dead, but if I see any farm on our way, I'd hand him over. Your farm couldn't be the last one in the world. I hope we find another one that could take a horse in."

"So, that's the plan, we adopt him until we can hand him over to someone else with a bit of space and the ability to look after him?" Troy thought back to the smallholding and the person who'd shot at him. There were some cattle there, but overall the space would have been ideal. Maybe later he could take the steed there.

"It's not a solid plan. Just an idea. I don't see how we can keep him in the long run, but shooting him is not an option. He doesn't deserve this shit. He went through as much and tried to survive. It's unfair to take it from him. I don't want Alicia to have it stuck in her brain forever. She has enough shit in there after your horde stunt. She hasn't even started to heal it."

"Lucky you found him then. Horses are therapeutic." Unsure if that was still true, only remembering what documentaries Troy'd seen before television and YouTube crashed stated. "You think she'll forgive me for that?"

Nick considered sugarcoating, then thought against it. "I don't think she can forgive something like that. But she can learn to live with it."

"Is that what you're doing? Living with it? Or do you in part feel responsible for it?" Not that Troy saw it that way. The youngest Otto blamed the entire takeover on Madison and Madison alone.

"I was there with you, Troy. I don't take the horde on me - that's all on you. But Jake's death is partially my fault. I lied for you to everybody, and then I did it again to Daniel's face, which means I shared your crime. I don't forgive you because it's not my place to forgive anything like that. I know why you did it, and I know how it came to it. And it's not fully your fault. It's the outcome of many faults. So you and I have to live with it because we couldn't change shit."

He said it as if he expected Troy to feel some sort of guilt or onus for what he'd done, when in reality, Troy didn't live with anything other than the loss of his home. And Jake.

"And what would you say if I was to tell you I had no regrets about it?"

He already knew Troy'd do it all again if it came down to it and he had to relive history.

Nick wasn't surprised. He heard it before – his mother was going to kill Troy for it.

Nick turned to regard him. "What do you want me to say, Troy? Call you a murderer? A psychopath? Swing a hammer at you?"

"That's what your mother tried to do, what your sister would have done if given the chance and what Jake was ready to do before you interfered. All I'm trying to figure out is why — with your views of good and bad — you're lenient with me. Is it that easy to bury it or do you have another angle?"

Nick heaved a painful sigh, grimacing subtly. The questions weren't misplaced. But Nick wasn't sure he himself had the answers. He tried to find them for Alicia and felt like he failed to. There was nothing set in stone, nothing solid and dense among the ideas of why he behaved the way he did with Troy.

"I killed a few people, but it never came easy," he said. "I'm not a killer. Taking lives sickens me, it's killing me in more ways than those I kill. There's no burying it, forgetting it, smoothening it anyhow to make it look better. There's no right excuse to kill anyone. And as much as I hated you when we came to the ranch, I still wouldn't kill you. I don't believe I have the right or place to judge you for things you've done and sentence you to death. I don't wanna _be it_. Because then there's no point. There's no point in survival when you're dead inside."

Troy nodded. It was a fair answer and confirmed what he knew about Nick, what he understood even more after eavesdropping on their conversation, but it didn't say why Nick continued to want to be with him – to travel with him. Nick didn't have to play judge or jury and the ranch was ancient history.

Was it all as simply explained as friendship? Could it be?

It didn't seem likely from what Troy knew, and yet there was proof in the pudding.

"Your sister seems to be a fairly decent rider. Did she do much of it before the world went to hell?"

"She took lessons as a kid. She always loved riding. What about you? Only-with-saddle kind of guy, are you?"

"I've never needed to be any other guy. Until today. It's not as easy or pleasant as it looks in the movies." Troy reached down and patted his crotch, inspecting the healing progress on the damage. It wasn't as tender as it was before. "What about you? How'd you get into it?"

"Well, that girl out there is my sister, so it was a package deal. I got a couple of lessons, the rest the horses taught me by darting into a gallop when I didn't expect or by dropping me down. I'm an amateur."

"Then it's a good thing she's out there instead of you or we'd be scraping you off the tarmac at some point. Lucky you made it back to the jeep in one piece." Troy smiled slightly before turning somber. "We need to find it a saddle or we're going to craft one."

"First of all, we gotta get to the cabin," Nick reasoned, darting an amused glance at him. "And no, I'm not the kind of amateur that falls off every time. I'm rather self-taught. Some rules they try to teach you about riding aren't all that comfortable. The officially correct way to sit in the saddle is not all that comfortable, either. And the length the stirrups should be in a sports saddle is not comfortable. Too high, which helps you fall off rather than stay on. I wasn't all into those lessons, but Alicia didn't mind. She was ready to endure anything just to have her riding time. And I didn't really give a damn."

Troy arched a brow in response to the knowledge he shared about the saddle and its comfort and nodded slowly, lazily, absorbing all of it before falling silent to keep an eye on the road.

As the ride went on, Alicia started to appreciate the periods of time when the horse decided to walk instead of running full throttle. Because with every firm bounce her head throbbed with pain and her injured side didn't fare much better. Not that she would admit to that, should anyone ask.

Alicia did spot what looked like a few infected shuffling about, but they were all the way across the opposite end of the field, and with the way they moved, they'd never make it to them in time. She still made sure Troy and Nick caught her gestures so they were aware of the situation, however.

Every now and then she was forced up onto the road to avoid trekking through patches of forest, and during one of these times, she had Troy throw her the jacket so she could cover her shoulders and arms from the persisting sun and its damaging rays.

In another thirty minutes, they picked a turn from the Interstate after consulting the maps. All was well for another ten minutes, and then, as they took a turn, there was a small crowd of dead traveling toward them. Nick stopped, killed the engine, and the horde spotted them, started to walk faster.

The horse realized what was coming and couldn't stay still. Nick glanced between the horde and his sister, hoping she knew how to keep the horse from rearing up.

The horse backtracked a little, unable to keep from pacing nervously, making Alicia tighten her grip on his mane and whispering words meant to soothe and reassure. Her gaze flicked to the two in the car, silently begging them to get to the infected before they could get to the horse.


	8. Chapter 8

**RIVER FLOWS NORTH — PART 6**

Troy removed his feet from the dash where they'd been resting the entirety of the journey, and winced slightly, scolding himself for the ridiculousness of his injury.

He hopped out, opened the back door, removed a knife from the weapons container, and moved toward the small crowd of wasted, forcing his steps to be fluid and determined.

It took concentrated effort to keep them from getting too close to the jeep and the horse standing a short distance away, restless and skittish as if it feared a breach. The crowd was stronger than they usually were, and the minor pain had slowed him down a tad.

What was going on?

Nick wasn't happy with just his knife, so he pulled out a machete. The horse was not going to get calmer.

"Alicia, ride away, let us clear them out," he called to her, waving the machete in the direction they came from. At least they knew the path was clear there. "Ride back, go! He'll throw you off if you stay!"

He hurried to join Troy who was already slicing into the crowd, drawing them off the highway. It was a painful work, and Nick debated covering himself in blood to make it safer and easier, but there was not so much time. Nor was the crowd all that big.

Troy, however, didn't seem so hot, anymore. He might be tired or there was something else Nick didn't know about.

Getting the horse to obey was no longer an easy task. He seemed confused, unsure of which direction would be safest, and even the tall grass on the side of the road startled him when it brushed up against his legs.

Luckily, Alicia managed to turn him around just as Nick and Troy attacked the group, and trotted back the way they had come, putting distance between them and the walking dead. When she stopped, Alicia could still see the infected and the progress the two men were doing in putting them down, but she was no longer close enough for the horse's nerves to flare anew.

It didn't seem like a big crowd once they started slicing through it, but then it felt to be going on forever. Nick lost his breath, his lungs became two burning embers, his ribs whined in throes, rejecting any new breath.

When it was over and they'd taken care of the group, Troy was breathing slightly heavier and scarcely as elated or energized by the fight as he usually would be.

Maybe he was just tired?

He wiped the knife off on the dead, checked himself over to make sure the close encounter he'd had with one of them hadn't left behind any surprises, and then steadily dragged them off the road to make a clear path for the horse.

Alicia stroked the side of the animal's long neck with one hand, continuing to murmur encouragements until every walking corpse had met their true end.

Then she approached again, slowly, testing the waters so to speak, while Troy and Nick tried to clear the way.

Troy checked the dead's pockets for anything useful, coming away with a packet of crumpled cigarettes that had seen better days and some gum.

He tossed Nick the cigarettes once he'd looked up, and peeled the wrapping from the gum, popping a piece into his mouth as a reward, and offered Nick one as they walked toward the jeep.

When the last one dropped and stilled, Nick propped his hands on his knees, trying to get his breathing to norm. It was like attempting to breathe under water. He caught the pack of cigarettes Troy tossed him only due to Otto's good aiming. Nick stuffed it in his back pocket and tried to straighten up. Wincing at another series of twinges, he walked slowly toward the Jeep. Alicia and the horse were fine. That was great.

"You still okay, Alicia?" Troy asked, extending the gum her way.

"All's good," she exaggerated, shaking her head at his offer. It tended to increase her hunger rather than dull it. "Are you two okay?"

Neither looked it. In fact, they both looked as though they would highly benefit from a shower and twelve hours in bed. She guessed the stress of the past few days was catching up with them. It certainly was that way for her.

"We getting close?"

Troy returned the rest of the gum to his pocket and studied the road ahead, seeking signs, anything to tell them again how far they'd come and how far they still had to go.

"I think so. We better. The sun's going to be gone in less than two hours and you're not going to want to be riding that thing when it does. We'd hardly be able to see what's coming."

He glanced at Nick and propped a hand against the bumper.

"You want me to take over driving?"

Nick considered having to drive for another hour or two, and it reflected inside of him in another throe.

He nodded. "Yeah, be my guest, if you feel okay yourself. You ain't as perky anymore, Otto."

"I'm okay," Troy replied, although that unfamiliar pull of weariness made him feel like resisting the idea for the first time in forever. He couldn't recall feeling tired since this whole thing started. Maybe it was the aftereffects of the drugs coming into play?

They could come after a few days, right?

That was the risk.

Or maybe he was beginning to get the onset of the flu?

"Okay, let's get going." Alicia patted the horse's neck and urged him forward. "Last stretch, handsome. Hopefully."

She let him walk for a while to come, allowing Nick and Troy to catch up to her with the car. The day was coming to a rapid end and that worried her a little. She was getting tired, and the horse no longer seemed as eager to run as he had before. This journey was wearing them all down. Alicia just prayed they actually made it to the cabin, and that when they got there, it would be habitable and not under someone else's control.

Troy slipped into the driver's seat, waited on Nick to join, and drove behind Alicia for a while.

Nice and easy. The time rapidly melting away with the sun.

Troy wasn't okay, but Nick didn't want to point it out any more times than he had already done. It would only focus Troy more on his weariness.

Nick shared water with him the next time he wanted a sip. Troy seemed to be concentrating on driving so much he didn't move to get the bottle while Nick knew he was thirsty by now. Nick wasn't happy to be making him strain himself more, but he hoped it would be over soon. If it wasn't, then he'd pick up the wheel and force Otto to rest.

After an hour or so of driving, Nick pulled the map again to reassess.

"It's probably this turn right here," he showed Troy, skimming a finger across the map. "It should be any time now, and then it's real close. At least to that forest. Where the cabin is, Alicia must know. Jake must have said something to make it more specific. Or we're gonna be searching for a needle in the woods."

Troy slowed to a manageable pace so that he could glance at the map and the image Nick was trying to show him and wouldn't rear end the horse if they were to stop. Troy still didn't recognize anything in the surrounding area. And how would he?

Time passed slowly, so very slowly, and Alicia was starting to struggle. Back in her "riding-lessons" days she had gone on several long trips with her fellow students and horses, where they'd ridden for hours from their riding school to another where the horses could safely spend the night while they camped on the grounds. And it had been fine. Alicia had been tired come evening, but nothing like what she felt now.

She was in pain, the kind she had initially hoped would fade once she got used to the sensation, but that instead intensified as time went on. But even the pain and discomfort couldn't deflect how sleepy she was getting, and once or twice she even caught herself having allowed her eyes to fall shut.

She held onto the horse with one hand and rubbed the other across her face in an attempt to perk herself up, blinking rapidly to fight her heavy eyelids from closing once more.

The sun was on its way down and the air was getting cooler. She carefully slid out of her jacket and tied it around her waist, hoping the slight chill would reawaken her sleepy brain.

"Alicia!" Troy called, sticking his head out the window, flipping on the flicker so that she could see what direction they were intending to head in when she turned around. He gestured, too, just in case she missed it.

When she veered off as instructed onto the dirt path, the jeep followed for about two miles before approaching a large stone sign advertising San Bernardino national forest.

They made it.

"Where to now?" Troy asked, raising his voice so that he could be heard by her a bit ahead of them.

Alicia made the horse stop once they reached the San Bernardino National Forest sign, turning slightly to examine her surroundings. There were several paths open to them now, all leading in different directions, but she didn't know which one to choose until she spotted the small wooden building carrying the name of INFORMATION. It was a few hundred feet away, up a small incline which she soon climbed.

"South of the Information cabin," she called back over her shoulder, trying to remember exactly what Jake had said the night he explained his cabin's whereabouts to her. "Close to a lake. Supposed to have 88 nailed to the front porch."

Troy followed her directions to the letter, sticking close behind her, carefully working his way up the incline, glad that the gears didn't stick and that the jeep was still working like a dream.

He didn't see any dead as of yet, or even people, but the denser it got the more concerned he got.

They were announcing themselves. In a big way.

He pulled off to the side and cut the ignition, glancing at Nick beside him. "I'm going to explore on foot. I don't want to waste any more fuel and I want to get a better look at what we're getting into."

Nick opened the door and stepped out, one foot still in the Jeep, surveying the highway and the woods framing it. When Troy emerged from his side, Nick spoke over the roof: "Let's at least roll it into the trees, off the road. There should be a parking area at the lake, but you're right, we've no way to know if it's clear and safe or not. So yeah, we should probably approach on foot, quietly, and scope up the place. But we need to secure the Jeep better. Hide it in case there are raiders around."

Troy agreed with that in all its glory, but they didn't know what lay off the road.

Alicia noticed the jeep had stopped behind her, so she halted the horse to wait, worried there might be trouble until she managed to overhear the conversation between the two men. It made sense. They were pretty much open targets out here, without knowing if anyone could be hiding in the cabins she assumed they were closing in on.

"What do we do about him?" she said, gesturing to the animal beneath her as he dipped his head to get at some grass on the side of the road.

Troy closed the driver's door, opened the back to help himself to a weapon, and started off the side of the road into the dirt, checking for nails and soft spots in which it could possibly get stuck. You couldn't be sure what traps people set. Especially hunters.

"We'll secure him to the jeep."

He walked a few steps, boots scraping the surface of the dirt, and then turned around to gesture for Nick to bring the car down.

When he moved to comply, Troy shifted deeper into the trees, looking for something they could possibly use to shade the lights and back and keep it from being spotted from the road if anyone else was to drive by. They wouldn't be able to save it from people walking through the forest, but that was the risk.

There was nothing out there but trees.

Troy could cut branches, possibly rip them off, but that would take more time than they had before darkness would settle in like a blanket and blindside everything.

Nick steered the Jeep after Troy, veering among the trees, and parked at the bushes that masked most of the vehicle. He pulled the key out as he slipped from the seat, and handed it to Troy.

Alicia was trotting to them, ducking from the branches.

"No, we can't leave him here, he'll draw attention and we'll come back to him dead," Nick reasoned and gave Alicia a sympathetic look. "You look tired as shit, I know you are, but you gotta hang in there a bit longer, if you can. Stick to the road shoulder so the hooves make less noise, and if there's anything, dead or alive, you ride away and let us take care of the problems, okay? We'll go ahead this time, and you stay behind so we get the benefit of stealth."

"It's fine," she said, giving him as much of a reassuring smile as she could muster, lifting her head slightly to nod in the direction where they needed to go. "Go play cowboys."

Troy let them decide between themselves what to do with the horse as his idea had been shot down, and started moving away, heading in the direction they'd intended to drive, scanning the numbers, searching for the dead and any sign that people were living here.

And why not?

The place was secure. It had water and it had shelter.

"Stay close to the trees," he suggested once Nick caught up. "If someone shoots at us at least we'll have a better chance of getting away."

He'd already had it happen once today and only managed to escape out of sheer luck.

"That forest leads to the lake, right?" Nick said to Troy before he started ahead again. "We should stick to it until we reach water. So there are less chances of anyone catching us off-guard."

Alicia followed behind them but kept a decent distance, sticking to the side of the path where the horse's hoofbeats would be muted. It was eerily quiet. Almost like the calm before a storm.

"I don't remember the area well enough to speculate," Troy responded, "but from the looks of it, I guess so. Only one way to find out." Troy slowed his step so that Nick could catch up and they could walk side by side. If anyone rolled up on them, he'd have an easier chance of getting Clark out of the way.

Troy's footsteps were light as they walked, knees bending as they approached the water until he crouched beside a tree, studying the trailers spaced out along the edge for any sign of movement.

He stayed in that position for a good two minutes before signaling for them to move, to stay within the barrier of the trees and to follow it along the water's edge until they were close enough to the residents to be able to make out numbers or allocated areas designated for the trailer homes.

Troy didn't see any movement or people but there were fresh tracks in the sand.

Either they'd left recently, arrived or they'd gone out in search of supplies. He didn't see the car belonging to it – none that didn't look abandoned and as if it fused to the spot.

He approached the first trailer and wiped at the dirt along the bottom of the windows with his sleeve, peering inside to get a look of the interior. There was a bunch of crap, but no people – no number.

He moved down the line and repeated the search with the next, aware of barking from somewhere, the sound of a small dog yapping to alert their owner as they unintentionally trespassed. Troy backtracked to press himself against the previous trailer, gesturing for Nick to do the same and to listen. Thankfully, after he'd joined the militia he'd learned the codes and gestures.

A door swung open unseen and two voices could be heard. Both male.

They didn't sound hostile from what Troy could gather, but they were cautious and searching for what had set off their warning system.

They were armed and wary, straining to see into the dark and probably refraining from shining flashlights for a reason. They stayed for a while, but then decided to return into their trailer, neither willing to walk through the dark woods in search of trouble, guns or no guns.

"We should go along the lake and find that cabin," Nick whispered to Troy before Otto got any crazy ideas of just shooting those two first. "Let's see what's there, and then we can think of what to do."

Alicia slowed down, commanding the horse to stop in his stride completely once Nick and Troy neared a few trailers, making sure she would remain out of immediate view. It wasn't easy to be stealthy on horseback.

She held her breath once someone emerged from one of the trailers, grateful the distant sound of a dog barking hadn't startled the horse into moving or dislodging her from his back. They eventually returned inside, but she still didn't leave her current hiding place. There was no way she'd be able to get past those trailers with the horse without alerting their owners to her presence. She'd have to take a different route.

Troy nodded his agreement and moved only once the trailer door closed again and one of its occupants yelled at the dog to shut the fuck up. He pressed against the side of the cabin, letting Nick lead the way since he'd been an inch behind, gesturing to their hanger-on in the near distance where they were going so she at least knew what to do with the horse and could decide.

Nick surveyed the trailer park, thinking, then turned to Troy again.

"Go to Alicia, stick to the trees and head for the lake, search for that cabin. I'll take a look around here and follow in a few. Wanna see if there are more living here."

Troy hesitated to leave him behind on mere principle but given the state of time and darkness and the fact that they didn't have much leeway to fuck around he didn't have much of a choice.

"Be careful," he said, pushing away from the trailer, darting to where he knew Alicia had been waiting for them in the distance.

"You should get off the horse," he suggested in a whisper and once he'd found her. "If those men happen to fire a weapon, it'll throw you off and it'll be easier to let them think he's alone."

"What's the plan?" she asked, lifting one leg over the horse's back so she could slide down its body. It hurt. It hurt a lot. She sucked in a sudden breath of air, regretting the choice of pressing her aching torso against the animal and the sharp landing that made her head thunder. Her face remained buried against the horse's side as she swallowed a groan of pain, fingers unintentionally fisting in his mane until the worst of it dulled somewhat.

Alicia turned to face Troy finally, but kept a hold of the horse so it wouldn't run into the potential danger ahead.

"What's Nick doing?"

Nick watched Otto sneak away to the shelter of the trees. He waited a bit more, then crept along the side of the trailer and to the next one. There was another one with lights in the windows. As he investigated the park, he found about three more inhabited trailers and the dog was barking again somewhere.

Nick didn't linger and followed his companions in the lake's direction.

They were rather far ahead, he barely caught up, tracking the horse by ear. The steed wasn't trying to be stealthy.

After Troy filled Alicia in on her brother's intentions, he led the way and she followed, one hand locked around the horse's halter. She was too aware of all the noise they were making to hear when Nick finally snuck up on them, startled by Troy suddenly drawing his gun and pointing.

"It's me, it's me!" Nick hissed when Troy trained his gun at him in the dark. "Four trailers have people in them. At first glance. And the lake is that way," Nick pointed a bit sideways. "You're taking too much to the right and gonna miss it. Come on."

Alicia's heart was in her throat until she recognized her brother's familiar voice, and they let him take the lead next after ushering them in the right direction. It was getting too dark among the trees to see much, but she thought after a while she could glean the outline of a cabin.

"Is that it?" she whispered, stalling the horse once more.

"One way to find out," Troy whispered, scavenging ahead of the two, keeping his feet firmly planted to the ground the closer he got in case of bear traps or whatever else hunters tended to use. A gift of the paranoid of having experienced people's depraved means of securing themselves. A lot of which—if he had the ability—he'd gladly do himself. There was no fencing around it, nothing to demarcate whose land was whose, apart from the trees. Troy had no idea where they'd find number eighty-eight, and with no light to help anymore, it was all guesswork.

He gestured for them to stop, to wait, and then moved speedily, ignoring the backdoor to find the front. He climbed the few porch steps slowly, aware of their every groan and squeak despite the blanket of dark. He didn't see any lights in any of the windows or anything to indicate that anyone lived there.

He drove a closed fist onto the wood panel, knocking hard twice, and then dashed off the porch to hide, heading the exact same way he'd come, cursing when he reached the side of the house and dropped to a crouch. He waited a beat, assuming that if anyone living stayed inside, they'd come out armed and ready.

Only it never happened.

That didn't mean it was clear, though.

Troy pressed a hand to the ground, sliding his hand across the dirt in search of something, and grabbed whatever to throw it at the windows.

It cracked once and then fell away somewhere.

"I guess no one's home," he stated in a whisper, slowly starting toward the front of the house again, being careful anyway in case whoever was smarter than he gave them credit for.

Nick stole along the wall toward the porch in the front and searched for any 88. The moon hid behind the clouds again, and it was hard to make out any details without a flashlight. Ahead from the porch, there was the lake, barely seen between the tree trunks. Next to the cabin, there was a garage.

The horse was getting restless, tired of being led around after so many months, possibly even years, of freedom. He stomped his hooves impatiently, threw his head back a couple of times, which made Alicia wince, and snorted.

"Is there any way into the garage?" she asked.

If there was and it was clear of danger and not too cramped, they could at least temporarily stow the horse there and allow themselves a simpler journey to and from the car.

Nick crept for the window and tried to look in, but it was too dark inside. He glanced back at Troy on his heel.

"I don't suppose you got a key?"

He chortled and tried the door, but it appeared to be locked, after all.

"We either use your head to bash it in with too much noise, or you can get a flashlight and something I can pick the lock with."

"Or," Troy retorted, given the options, mulling them over for about half a second, quickly raising a boot and swiftly kicking the door open. It gave like flimsy cardboard.

That was the thing about these houses. No security.

He grabbed Nick's shoulder in the dark, pulling him out of the way of anything that might come stumbling out, an arm secured against his upper body for about half a second so Nick could get the hint before Troy removed his gun.

If there was someone inside, then they'd have definitely heard that.

Troy inched toward the door, pressed his head against the side of the paneling and strained to listen for any activity that might be happening upstairs or elsewhere. There was a thumping from somewhere, but it sounded distinctly clumsy.

"Seems clear of the living," he stated in a conspiring whisper. "I'll check the garage."

Nick winced as Troy bashed in the door. That was the kind of noise he wanted to avoid. Nick wasn't up for standing watch and slicing the dead through the night.

There was no one, living or dead, on the first floor, but something might be on the second. He didn't immediately go there, checking the fireplace first. There was wood for it stocked next to it. Two chairs sat in front of it, a couch stood at the wall.

He followed Troy outside as he went for the garage. It wasn't wise to split up now on the unknown territory.

The horse was being nervous and Alicia had a hard time holding onto the halter. Nick could tell by her silhouette in the dark how exhausted she was.

As Troy kicked in the door like it was a piece of plastic, and Nick followed him inside, Alicia moved to stand in front of the horse, trying to get the horse's focus off their surroundings and onto herself. She rested her forehead against his, murmuring words of reassurance again, stroking the sides of his head. He calmed for all of thirty seconds before his nerves took over again. She narrowly avoided his muzzle slamming into her chin, forced to stand at his side again to avoid other potential collisions as Troy's form stalked away towards the garage.

The horse's uneasiness didn't go unnoticed, and for a time, Troy worried that maybe the animal sensed something they couldn't in the dark. He paused, listened, eyes taking in the unfamiliar silhouettes to try and distinguish what was friendly and what was foe before seeking the garage again.

For a time, it was hard to make out what was part of the house and what wasn't, and then, like some glimmer of magic, the door revealed itself, briefly illuminated by a touch of moonlight before disappearing.

The weather was iffy, and if the clouds were anything to go by, it was going to rain at some point.

He approached it cautiously and knocked. It wasn't long before he received a crash in return, louder, followed by a series of muffled groans that explained why the cabin hadn't been taken over.

Maybe the people in the area didn't know how to take care of the dead, or maybe they didn't care?

Troy regarded Nick as the latter walked up behind him.]

"I don't want to get rid of them until we have some light. I can't tell how many are in there. Do we have a torch back at the jeep?"

"I don't know, we got a lot of shit in your Jeep."

"Our jeep," Troy corrected, wracking his brain for an inventory list. They'd collected a lot of stuff over the last few days. He couldn't remember a torch.

Nick pondered, looking back at Alicia with her horse.

"We'll have to take him in the cabin, and he'll crap all over the place. But at least, he'll live."

"Fine. For tonight we'll let him stay inside." That way Troy didn't have to go to the jeep in the dark. He was still tired.

He slowly walked toward the cabin entrance. "We'll clear the upstairs and then you can bring him in, Alicia."

They were on the homestretch.

They wanted her to bring him into the cabin itself? Seemed strange, but Alicia was too tired to argue. As long as he'd be safe it was fine with her.

"'Kay," she murmured, inclining her head in a nod, shifting her weight from one foot to the other while waiting for their signal. "Be careful," she urged Nick once he was within the range of her voice, eyeing the dark cabin warily.

What they found upstairs was a couple of scared possums. It was unclear how they got there, but there was more logic in it than if it were an infected.

While Troy checked for more surprises around the second floor, Nick went to get Alicia. The horse dashed before her. It made him laugh. The animal really didn't want to stay outside longer than was necessary. His patience was done for this day.

It didn't take too long before Nick returned, and for that Alicia was grateful. The horse rushed for the door the moment they made to move and she was forced to release her hold on him. The doorway was too narrow for the both of them to pass through at the same time, anyway.

Alicia imagined the animal would do some damage during the night, but couldn't find it in her to care very much. She was too exhausted.

Troy captured the possums and shooed them out of the back door, briefly considering killing them so that they'd have some meat to eat, but granted how tired he was he didn't have the energy.

Maybe tomorrow he'd find them again.

Seeing the horse inside amongst the furniture in the dark like a lump was a bit surreal.

"There are two bedrooms upstairs. All clear."

He moved the nearest piece of furniture, pushing it out of the way to make more space for the horse since obviously, the animal would be taking up most of the living room, wincing when something crashed to the floor.

A lamp, maybe? A table? He kicked it aside and pushed the item toward the wall, along with what felt like a wood chair or couch.

When Troy was done, he headed toward the kitchen in search of the taps and water. The horse would need it after the long ride, and their own water they'd left in the bush.

Alicia did briefly consider suggesting they should get back to the jeep and fetch their belongings. There was no guarantee it would still be there in the morning and to lose all that water and what remained of their food would be a shame. But she didn't really think any of them were willing to go for another walk. Troy and Nick might have been better at hiding it at this point, but it was clear they were all tired.

The door wouldn't fully latch after Troy's violent treatment of it, and after a moment's consideration Alicia asked:

"Should we block it from the inside? Just in case?"

"We definitely should," Nick agreed, "unless Troy wants the possums to come back for a visit."

He circled the horse and went to check the kitchen. Troy was busy trying the taps. The results were not inspiring; the taps chortled and choked, and then water started trickling. It didn't look dirty.

"That's lucky," Nick remarked. "Probably due to the lake water. Must be using that."

Water being provided from the lake made a lot of sense to Troy. They were self-sustainable and people statistically stayed at places like these during the summer or a week here and there. The sad thing was that depending on how many people had holed up here and how much it rained – it would eventually run dry.

Like everything.

But from what he'd glimpsed of the lake before the sun stole away, that wouldn't be happening soon. That was just a long-term thought.

He turned off the water and bent to search the cupboards blindly. He found what he guessed was a breakfast dish, and filled it to the best of its capabilities before slowly carrying it over into the living room.

Troy set the bowl down, dipped his fingers into the water and pressed them to them to the horse's muzzle, a hand combing through his mane gently, coaxing him in the dark to find the gift at his feet.

"We could use the couch to block it. I think I knocked over a side table, too."

Not that it would help much.

It probably wouldn't make much of a difference if the living came to call, but at least there was a bigger chance they'd hear someone at the door if they had to push a couch across the floor to enter.

Navigating her way through the dark until she reached said couch, Alicia pushed against it to test its weight. Heavier than she suspected.

"Give me a hand, Nick?"

Nick took a hold of the couch, pushing along with Alicia until it was barricading the door. He would have liked to have the handle secured with wires, too, but there was not much more they could do with what they had. It had to hold until morning.

"We gotta catch some shuteye and deal with the rest in the morning," he said, sitting down on the couch to rest a bit.

Troy combed his fingers through the horse's mane, encouraging the steed to follow him, giving them space to work.

When they were done, he released the horse so it could drink water in peace and acquaint itself with the room that was to be his barn for the night.

He didn't care that it was early or that he hadn't eaten. Food was a secondary thought to exhaustion. Besides, it wasn't the first time Troy'd been without it since this thing started.

He headed to the kitchen, collected what he assumed was plates and felt his way back to the staircase.

"Upstairs," he stated, gesturing despite the fact that he doubted they could see him. "You need a decent bed to heal those ribs of yours, Nick. You too, Alicia."

Alicia's ribs didn't hurt nearly as bad as her head at this point, and she was starting to think Troy's earlier assumption she'd gotten herself a concussion was correct. The ride had probably done more bad than good on that front, considering her brain now felt like scrambled eggs. But she didn't argue. She simply navigated her way over to the stairs and climbed them one by one step, collapsing atop the first bed she came across, all but gone before she could even remove her boots or jacket.

Alicia shuffled upstairs, and Nick was too lazy to force his ass off the couch as if his body suddenly weighed as much as the horse that snorted beside him.

He heard the bowl shift against the floor, then there were suckling sounds as the horse drank.

He tried a sigh, but his ribs didn't share the sentiment. Eventually, he made an effort and got off the couch, then started up the stairs. He went to the first room and found Alicia passed out on the bed. It was a rather wide mattress, so he lay down beside her and closed his eyes. And the world melted away.

Once the both of them had slid past Troy and upstairs, he followed, setting down plates strategically as he went to act as a secondary alarm in case someone was to creep in.

Who'd be expecting that? No one.

He climbed the rest of the way, found the bathroom, relieved himself and headed in search of his own room, dropping onto the mattress face first, allowing himself to give in to the pull of sleep without guilt.

* * *

Alicia was back in the cellar, the air heavy and suffocating, a sheen of sweat glistening on her skin as she drove her blade into another skull.

"What did you do?"

She turned to see Mom burst through the doorway, followed by Nick, Strand, Troy, and Walker. They all looked at their surroundings with horror.

Mom's eyes were wide and terrified. "Alicia, what did you do?"

"They were sick," Alicia said, her gaze falling on the man she had just tended to, traveling over the dozens and dozens of corpses splayed out on the concrete floor. They were at rest now.

"No, they weren't," Mom argued, making her frown.

Alicia sighed and moved to lift the man's shirt, to show them all the bite mark on his abdomen. Only it wasn't there. She couldn't find it.

"They were sick," she repeated with a little more urgency, getting to her feet to search the others. "I saw it."

Her search yielded no new results. But she had seen it. They were bitten, they were going to die and turn. She was just putting them out of their misery.

"They weren't infected." It was Nick who spoke now. They were all watching her, disgust visible on their faces.

"What did you do?!" Mom moved so quickly Alicia could barely see her. She grasped her daughter by the shoulders, shaking her, suddenly furious. Her voice was so loud, echoing through the cellar and reverberating in Alicia's skull with such intensity it hurt.

"WHAT DID YOU DO, ALICIA?!"

Alicia burst from her bed the moment her eyes opened, blindly rushed out of the room and down the stairs, unintentionally kicking porcelain dishes across the floor. She narrowly avoided colliding with the horse on her way to the door, where she was met with that damned couch she and Nick had brought over earlier. She pulled at it, yanking hard with all her strength and moved it just enough to create a gap she could slip through after getting the door open.

It felt as though she was going to be sick, but when she got outside and fell to her haunches just beyond the front porch, instead she exploded in loud, unexpected sobs. Her arms on her knees, Alicia put her hands over her face and cried, her heart pounding wildly, struggling to draw breath, overcome with a strong sense of self-loathing and guilt.

Her nightmare had not been real. She knew that. She knew the events that had truly happened were different. But it didn't much matter. It didn't matter that the awful actions she had performed were done for 'the right reasons'. It didn't matter that the people she had put down had volunteered, sacrificed themselves to save the rest. Taking lives, even lives that would fade on their own soon enough, had broken something inside her. Had scratched and clawed at that part of her she had vowed to keep intact. And it hurt to lose it, hurt to see their faces with her mind's eye and hear their pleading voices begging for more time she couldn't give them.

The night sky was slowly brightening, turning the heavens into a beautiful mural of yellows and pinks she failed to appreciate as she tried to stop the endless stream of tears staining her cheeks.

* * *

A series of chaotic loud noises yanked Nick from his sleep. He sat up in a jerk and noticed that Alicia wasn't next to him, anymore.

Downstairs, the horse was snorting nervously, his hooves thudding, and something being pushed.

He scrambled off the bed, dashing downstairs so quickly his chest combusted in throes. He paid no mind as his blood grew colder each moment.

The couch was clumsily pushed away from the door that was open a crack.

"Alicia!"

Nick squeezed out and fell on his knees next to his sister that was cowering on the ground, her whole body shaking as he took her by the shoulders to pull her up a bit. He had to make sure she wasn't injured.

"Alicia! What is it? What happened?"

The plate system worked a little too well and had Troy roll off the mattress and onto his knees without so much as a blink of hesitation, gun in hand as he listened to a rush of footsteps charging down the stairs.

He wasn't even sure he'd actually been asleep.

He moved toward the door, gun poised and trained ahead, following the commotion down the stairs until he found one sibling wrapped around another with an equally frantic look on his face.

Troy didn't say anything but automatically looked back and inside for blood or any signs of entry, earning a lazy greeting from their pet steed who tried to nudge him from behind in an attempt to get out. Troy guessed it wanted to graze.

Otto didn't budge, though, didn't touch the horse, and stood guard.

Alicia squeezed her eyes shut as Nick's hands clasped her shoulders, unable to meet his gaze, loathing the fact he was seeing her like this but unable to stop the sobs from launching through her body like little convulsions. She was painfully aware of his attention on her, as well as Troy having come up behind them, and though she had expected to feel some embarrassment for the spectacle she was making, she soon realized those feelings never emerged at all. There was shame, yes, but for different reasons. Not embarrassment.

She could hear her mother's words: "You were always the strong one." Several people had said that to Alicia lately, as if that meant she had more responsibilities than the rest. No one really cared to know whether she truly was strong or if it was just an act. It didn't seem fair that she had to keep pretending to be something she didn't feel in her heart. And yet, as these thoughts flitted around her head, she inwardly chastised herself for not keeping up appearances. Even for Nick who knew her better than anyone. It felt so utterly wrong to make him worry about her.

She opened her eyes eventually, tried to speak, to reassure him she wasn't injured in the way he feared, but the only words she managed to utter as she grasped his arms tightly were: "I keep seeing their faces…"

Nick's mind was still foggy from sleep, and at first, it was a puzzle. Mom and Strand's faces popped in his head, then the proctors. It didn't feel right.

And then, it came to him. In her voice from before.

'They were so scared…'

Sobbing, just like now.

Nick grimaced as if she'd punched him in the ribs, then pulled her to him, kissing the side of her head. He felt as if his heart was literally bleeding for all this pain she had to be in. He had no idea how to make it easier.

Deep down, he didn't believe it could ease up. His never had.

"You couldn't save them, Lisha," he murmured, holding her. "No one could. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry you had to go through this. I should've saved you. I should've come for you sooner. I'm so sorry."

Troy gazed down at the broken girl, trying to dig for a semblance of responsibility or guilt to choke him as Jake would have liked or tried to instill in him for years but found none.

It's wasn't there.

It's not that Troy even felt victorious seeing the carnage or remembering that Jake had died, not as much as he'd pictured when he'd led the horde and planned to massacre everyone that had laid siege to his home.

No, it was just something that needed to be done and he'd achieved that. Mission accomplished.

He barely even thought about the aftermath, anymore. At least he tried not to.

He lowered his weapon, tucked it into the waistband of his pants and quickly inched his way back into the house, swiping at his eyes to clear them of sleep and to allow himself a chance to properly wake up.

It made things even worse that Nick somehow felt he was responsible for her doings, that her pain should have been his to carry because he wanted so desperately to protect her. But Alicia understood. It was love. Had their situations been reversed, she would have wished for the same thing.

Mom had offered her no such gestures. Not at the ranch, and not back at the hotel when Alicia had killed a man to protect Travis. Madison had just said, "You'll be okay," and they had talked no more about it. And though Alicia didn't directly blame her for that, it stung a little to know Nick seemed to care more than Mom had.

The fact he wasn't berating Alicia for reacting the way she did made her feel safe. Safe to cry until she was no longer able to do so. She clutched her brother for a long, long time, her forehead resting on his shoulder, and eventually, her sobs stilled and were replaced with soft breathing, eyelashes still wet as she fell asleep.

She was crying for a long while, and Nick held her. The dawn was breaking around them, some birds started to chirp.

Eventually, Alicia stilled, her breath hot on his neck. She seemed to be asleep. It wasn't all that amazing after what she had endured through the day. He shifted his right leg from the knee to the foot, propping it steadily, then gingerly lifted her up, not to wake. It was a hell of an agony bursting inside his chest as he held his breath at first, and then breathed in shallow little intakes as he carefully ascended the porch and slipped in.

Troy was wandering around the living room like a zombie. It was a wonder he hadn't returned to bed, but at this particular moment, it was good to have him here.

Troy frowned when Nick came in carrying Alicia, looking like every step was painful and like he might drop her at any moment. He didn't ask Troy to take her, and despite the urge, Otto didn't offer, assuming he wouldn't take it and that this was another one of those big brother things he needed to do solo.

"Secure the door, will ya," Nick asked in a wheezy whisper and started up the stairs. Every step was a scorching disaster in his lungs, but he made it to the bed. He lowered her on it, and then slipped to sit on the floor, doubled over to wait out the pain. It refused to let go. When it was a tad less sharp, he collected the few stamina drops left and climbed up to take his place beside her.

This time, sleep didn't come easy. It hurt too much. The first specks of sunlight brightened on the curtains right before he finally drifted off.

Troy waited until Nick made it to the top of the landing safely, and then grasped the horse's mane, slowly guiding him toward the door and off to porch to a patch of nearby grass that wasn't green anymore.

There was no way in hell Troy'd be able to go to sleep again. Not after that shit show.

Not that he was feeling guilty or anything, the house was just a tad stifling, and they'd probably be grateful for his lack of presence for a while.

He stayed close to the horse, watching the steed move through the trees, nibbling at the ground, searching out the best bit of breakfast and seemingly failing to find one spot that worked just right.

"Pickings are slim for all of us," Troy mused companionably, glancing at the cabin in the distance, finally finding a number on the side above the garage. It wasn't eighty-eight.

They'd broken into someone else's place.

That was okay, too, considering what he'd noticed the horse had gifted them between the living room and the kitchen and would later have to be cleaned up if they intended to stay.

He walked a short distance in search of another house, another number that rung closer to the one they'd been looking for the night before, the horse following at a pace, eating his way.

When Troy returned to the house some twenty minutes later, it was quiet and the two upstairs were dead to the world. The more recovery time they got the better.

He stood staring at them while they slept, considering, and then wandered away in search of the bathroom to try and make use of the shower.


	9. Chapter 9

**RIVER FLOWS NORTH — PART 7**

Her early-morning dramatics combined with yesterday's physical efforts seemed to ensure no more nightmares came for Alicia this time around. She slept soundly, and when she woke, the sun was high up in the sky.

Nick was beside her, asleep as well, his lips slightly parted, breathing slow and steady. She lay on her back, gaze fixed on the ceiling for quite some time, trying to be as still as possible to keep from waking her brother. He looked as if he could use every minute of sleep gifted to him. Which, of course, renewed her guilt for having made such a fuss. They'd been right back where they started. Big brother saving her from her nightmares.

Finally, she had to move. She did so cautiously, careful not to jostle the bed and to keep her boots from making too much noise on the floor. Luckily, quite a lot of this cabin appeared to be carpeted, dampening her footsteps as she went in search of the bathroom.

Troy filled the bath as best he could despite the fact that there was no hot water, spending an hour scrubbing himself with floofy flower soaps and a loofah.

He considered sneaking away and going for the jeep to make sure it was still there, but didn't like the idea of leaving the injured and sleepy duo defenseless. They'd already had one drama today.

When he grew tired of the static activity and was thoroughly chilled, he climbed out of the bath, took a piss in the toilet, collected his clothes off the bathroom floor along with his gun, and pulled them on as he exited the bathroom.

Starting with his shirt.

Alicia approached the door she assumed led to the bathroom but stilled once it opened before she could even reach for the door handle.

He hadn't taken a step when unexpectedly a body appeared before him, all hair and wild eyes.

"Jesus!" he cursed, scarcely having heard her, let alone expected one of them to be awake.

This was awkward and he supposed offensive, given her earlier meltdown.

Troy appeared, all shirt and no pants – Winnie The Pooh style. His hair was wet, and Alicia gathered from his state of undress he had just washed. And she seemed to have taken him by surprise. She secretly enjoyed the brief glimmer of fear in his eyes before he realized it was her standing there.

He dropped the arm holding his jeans to shield her delicate eyes and whatever ire might arise at seeing him naked, and took a step to the left so she could obviously continue on into the bathroom.

"There's no hot water," he stated helpfully, shuffling to the room he'd designated, closing the door behind him.

Had he been anyone else, she probably would have found this encounter the height of hilarity, but as she watched him awkwardly shuffle away the only thought that occurred to her was: You look like your brother.

 _Ew._

She didn't respond to his statement about the water, having thought as much already, considering there was no electricity for a water heater here. Alicia stepped inside and closed the bathroom door behind her, locking it for good measure to avoid a similarly awkward and probably traumatizing experience should Nick suddenly wake up.

Shrugging out of her jacket, she made quick use of the toilet, and despite the ice-cold water, decided to brave a shower.

Troy pulled on the rest of his clothes, remade the bed he'd slept in the night before, and searched the bedroom, unsurprised to find nothing of use. When things had gone to hell, it was in the off season.

He stepped out into the narrow hall, glanced into the opposite bedroom where Nick lay sleeping, and slowly started his way downstairs, picking up the bits and pieces of broken plates.

Not one had survived.

He deposited them on a side table, observing as the horse dropped another flatty with a wave of its tail.

A clear sign that he needed to get out or this place would turn into a hazard come nightfall or mid-afternoon.

That's if they even stayed here that long. They weren't in the right place.

Troy rifled through the kitchen drawers, stepped over the hardened turd acting as a weird border between the two rooms, and headed outside with two blunt butter knives (they weren't exactly standard issue but with the right amount of force they'd do the job), closing the door so their resident pet wouldn't shadow him.

He approached the garage and gave a light knock to re-establish what he'd heard the day before. The bounding was immediate and as clumsy as if the dead inside only had one note.

Troy placed both knives in one hand, reached for the handle, testing to see if it was locked from the inside or had some other intricate means of keeping it closed, and found that it moved easy. Only this time it wasn't possums but two pairs of rotted feet that appeared. They pushed at the wood from the inside, indifferent to the fact that what they were trying to achieve was impossible, and eventually succumbed to gravity.

He opened the door the rest of the way, taking a step back, watching as they tried to scramble to their feet, stomping over each other in their desperation to claw at his flesh, hindering each other more than they were helping and making it even easier for him to put some space between himself and them.

"Come and get it, idiots," Troy rebuked, slipping the second knife back into his other hand, tapping at his thigh for importance. It took them some time and crawling, but in due course they were on their feet again, shuffling, following him from the house and into the trees he'd let the horse graze in earlier. Taking them out was only stress-free in theory, and once the butter knife went through one's eye socket and lodged itself, it stayed, slippery due to blood and other muck, pushing Troy to use the butt of his gun and a boot to take care of the second.

A workout that took twenty minutes.

He returned to the garage, looking like Nick on his best days, and as though he hadn't spent a good hour in cold water trying to scrub days' worth of grime from under his fingernails. Inside was a four door Cherokee, doors closed, loaded to the hilt as if the couple was in the middle of leaving back to civilization when either one or both of them were attacked and bitten. Troy didn't see the culprit lying around anywhere that could have done the damage but there were old blood splatters that told enough of a story and allowed him to piece something together. He checked first the passenger door and then the back, finding that all appeared to be locked, brushing a hand at the thick black dirt that clung to the windows to peer inside.

What he found inside was a cooler, blankets, a jacket, and a baby.

He removed his gun from his waistband and drove it into the window with force, glass scattering, showering the wiggling form locked into its car seat with splinters. Milky eyes locked on him almost cutely, bony hands flailing, a slow smirk of curiosity twisted in the corner of Troy's mouth. He'd seen a lot of people turn, all shapes and sizes, but never a baby. It seemed cruel in some way. Like a cosmic joke. He couldn't see any bite marks on the little body or any blood at all, so obviously the baby had died of starvation.

Troy offered it his hand, let it grip his finger to gauge its strength and let it attempt to put it in its mouth before pulling back, reaching across the front seat to unlock the passenger door and then shut it.

He repeated the procedure until he'd opened the driver's side and managed to manually open the trunk. There was quite a bit inside. Folded blankets, clothing bags, baby formula, insect repellent, board games and a cooler with perishables that were stomach-turning to smell.

He set them aside, closed the trunk, and carried everything but the cooler toward the front door. As soon as he could, he'd clean out the cooler and use it as a makeshift trough for the horse.

He returned to close the garage door and then carried his wares inside, deciding to wait until he had another pair of hands before he'd move the car, since it was without keys and he'd have to push it.

But that was only if they were staying.

* * *

The cold water made her shower anything but enjoyable, but the fact that Alicia got to use actual soap and shampoo to cleanse her skin and hair made it all worth it. When she finished and dried off, stepping back into her relatively fresh clothing, she almost felt like herself again. The old Alicia, whose face rarely was streaked with dirt and blood. It was nice.

She brushed through her hair with her fingers, leaving it down so it would dry quicker, and stepped out of the bathroom.

From the looks of it, Nick was still asleep. She gently closed the door so the sounds of the horse and who she assumed to be Troy downstairs wouldn't wake him.

The first floor reeked of a foul smell she initially assumed belonged to the horse's droppings she cautiously stepped over, but when faced with a goo-covered Troy shifted her suspicions.

"Jesus," she said, repeating his curse from earlier, wrinkling her nose until his new odor was no longer a surprise attack on her senses. "What happened to you?"

Her gaze automatically roamed his body for signs of injury, even if she knew the substances he was covered in were too rotted and spoiled to actually be _his_ blood.

"You okay?"

Her presence didn't catch Troy off-guard this time and her distaste for the smell matched his own. If he could he'd burn these clothes. And himself in them.

"All good. I was doing routine maintenance. The garage is pretty much cleared except for the fact that there is a car in there that we're going to have to move to make sufficient room for our four-legged friend. Also a cooler, that, if you like your senses, I don't suggest you touch. I want to knock the top off and make Fido a water bowl."

He gestured to the belongings he'd deposited on the couch.

"There's some blankets that'll come in handy, we could maybe even try to fashion one into a saddle of some kind, I haven't quite figured the logistics in my head yet and some clothes. The owners weren't exactly raky but I'm sure there will be some things that'll work."

"It was packed?" she asked, eyeing the load of supplies he'd dumped on the kitchen counter. "The car, I mean? If they were ready to head out, it probably means it's got some fuel left for us."

Even a gallon of petrol would be a prize these days. Alicia moved to inspect the pile of blankets, giving them a cursory sniff. They were clean, but smelled kind of moldy as though they hadn't been aired out in forever. Which was probably the reality.

She grabbed them all and headed for the front porch to hang them over the railing, the horse nudging her back with his muzzle in a not-so-subtle hint for her to move aside. She reckoned he wanted to go outside. Couldn't blame him for that. He was probably hungry.

Alicia watched the dirt road leading to the cabin, wondering how far they were from the jeep. If it was even still there.

Seeing what she was doing, Troy grabbed one blanket and spread it out on the opposite railing, leaving the rest for her to tend to since he smelt like a walking toilet.

"Anything edible in the cupboards?" she asked Troy, ushering the horse back inside.

"Nothing from what I saw earlier, and nothing in the car. From what I can tell, they were literally planning to leave before one or both of them got attacked. There should be fuel in the car, but I haven't found the keys yet. Unless you know anything about hotwiring? Either way, we don't really need it, all I want to do is roll it off into the field and that's easily done just by freeing up the hand break. Unfortunately, if you're up to it, I'll need your help with that."

"We can still siphon the fuel for the jeep," she countered, closing the door behind them so the horse wouldn't follow. "And, sure. Let's do it." Sadly, her hotwiring skills were lacking, but she was more than able to push a car for a few feet. Unless it was uphill.

Alicia stepped off the porch and headed for the garage, reached for the handle and pulled the large gate open, assuming Troy had already taken care of its previous owners, considering the current state of his appearance.

It was one of those old garages that still had a dirt floor, but that would probably suit the horse better than concrete. She went to get behind the car, froze when she sensed movement from inside, and found herself unable to speak for a moment as her gaze landed on an undead baby. It was strapped to its car seat, short arms flailing as its dead eyes rolled in her direction.

"Oh no…" she breathed finally, feeling a pang of sorrow for the tiny soul that had met such a cruel end. He couldn't have been more than six months old.

Considering what had happened this morning, Troy should have warned her about the baby or at least disposed of it himself but he hadn't wanted to. Maybe because it was defenseless and fragile.

Troy was still trying to decide the implications for his decision as he could have laid it to rest with its family – only that was sentimental – and he rarely took care in that. He guessed Nick would do that. Or would have if Alicia didn't get there first.

"Makes you think twice, huh?" he added conversationally, rounding to the driver's side of the door to get down to business. He opened it, braced a hand against the panel beneath the window. He pointed to the passenger door so that she could open it and replicate his position. "Once you're ready, use the door as leverage, I'll take it out of gear, release the handbrake and hopefully we'll be able to roll this baby out into the trees."

A bad choice of words he surmised but one he wasn't going to apologize for.

Alicia couldn't help but wonder if the parents had died first or if the child had beat them to it. Then the horrifying image of two zombified parents trying to break through the windows in order to eat their own baby alive popped into her head, and she suddenly felt a little sick.

She hated this new world.

The window on the baby's side had been shattered, and she assumed that was Troy's work, too, since the infant still appeared to have all limbs intact. He wasn't suffering any longer. At least, she didn't think so. But they couldn't just leave him like this. It was so wrong.

Reaching for the knife in her boot, she opened the door, took a steadying breath, and drove the blade into the baby's temple. It stilled instantly, all life immediately gone.

It didn't feel like it had back in the cellar. This child was already beyond help and she knew that. But it still pricked at her heart. Just another one to add to the list.

Alicia swallowed, cleaned her knife on the seat, and slid it back before accommodating Troy's instructions, taking hold of the open front passenger door and leaned her weight forward to help push once he'd release the handbrake.

She couldn't find it in her to meet his gaze and simply gave a nod to signal she was ready.

As soon as she'd taken care of baby duty, Troy leaned over the seat, shifted the gears, added the final touches and started to push.

The car strained at first – they strained – and then it started to roll, crunching gravel as it went, starting into a steady speed that could easily slip away from them if they were to let it go.

With one hand on the steering wheel, they guided it toward the side of the road, between the trees where it wouldn't obstruct the jeep once they fetched it, appear as too much of an eyesore, or draw attention.

"That should be far enough," Troy instructed, reaching in to grab at the handbrake again, immediately stopping the process in its place without any of the car's usual grace.

Alicia closed the doors on her side, intentionally avoiding another glance at the baby.

"We gonna get the jeep?" Considering the position of the sun, she assumed it was already noon. "Unless someone's already gotten to it."

"Definitely," he said, straightening up, shutting the driver's door so that he could round to the back and give their new digs a studious onceover.

The place was pretty secluded, and with some work could be quite the stronghold.

"We should wake Nick. We know there are people around here, at the lake, and if they scavenge up this way, who knows what they'll decide to do."

Alicia nodded and headed back for the cabin. "I'll do it."

She was still reluctant to wake her brother. He needed all the rest he could get. But they couldn't just up and abandon the jeep either when all their provisions and weapons were locked inside it.

* * *

Nick woke with a jerk, gasping, as if a fatal current went through his body. It took a moment to regain awareness of where he was and that there was no Celia before him asking him to stay on her villa while it burned around them. Ofelia wasn't behind him, either, asking if he felt guilt in that undead wheezy hiss while her bloody teeth snapped.

Alicia wasn't beside him, anymore. Nick felt a pang of fear she had another fit, but then Troy would have heard if Nick didn't. He wouldn't let her stay in danger. At least, Nick believed so.

His chest ached like he had a train collided into it an hour ago. He went to the bathroom, took care of morning business, then turned on the water taps and washed his face and hands. It was pleasant to feel its cool touch on his skin. It helped clear his head a little.

When he was descending the stairs, the horse was preparing to either crap or pee. Neither was acceptable. Nick dashed toward it, forgetting his pains, and swung the door open.

"Go, get out!"

It was happy to oblige. Nick followed and found Alicia and Troy outside.

"It's not a fucking dog, you guys, the hell you locked him in?"

He regarded Troy and smirked.

"I see you cleaned the garage."

* * *

Before Alicia could make it off the field, Nick appeared on the front porch, the horse rushing out ahead of him to tend to its own business and distract itself with whatever vegetation was acceptable to its palette.

"There are people around. He wanders, he might get hurt. Or lead them back to us." She continued walking until they were within touching-distance, then lowered her voice and murmured: "I'm sorry… about earlier."

Not that Troy worried the horse would get hurt — that was still a coin toss — but the fact that it could bring hell down on them by having other people venture this way was a big deal. The longer they could stay hidden from the rest – the better.

Troy strolled toward Nick, glad to see that he was on his feet, noticing that he didn't actually look much better.

"I thought I'd get a head start on clean up duty. I had time. Besides Alicia and I were just about to come wake you. We shouldn't leave the jeep out there unattended any longer than is necessary."

"You should've woken me when you were up," Nick chided. "We should go get the Jeep now. But as for those trailer people, we can't hide from them. We need to watch them some more and decide whether we can have them near us with no problem - and then we should meet them face to face - or if they're bad news, it's best to leave."

Alicia doubted Troy would go for that considering his earlier desire to fight and protect what was rightfully his, but she wasn't all that eager for a shootout.

"You needed all the sleep you could get," she told Nick after his chiding remark. "We all did."

"What she said," Troy added in regards to his chiding. "We didn't need you for this part and we don't need you to get the jeep either if you're not up to it. You took quite the beating, man. You haven't been able to rest properly and I'm not expecting that to clear up overnight."

He was more a determent to his own survival, if anything, and Troy couldn't have that.

Nick set his jaw, annoyed by their concern and by his loathing of it in equal measure.

Alicia gestured to the horse still searching for food among the dead leaves on the ground. "Garage? Can't exactly take him with us."

Troy nodded, finally dragging his attention to the horse that had found a spot of grass and was happily chewing.

"That's what it's for. You want the honors, horse whisperer, or have you had enough?"

"If either of you babies me again, I'm gonna dump your asses," Nick promised with a serious face and went for the horse.

He pitied the animal, it didn't deserve to be kept in a lockdown without even being fed. But Nick doubted Alicia was ready to take another riding tour.

Alicia held her hands up in mock-defense at Nick's threat, but took it in stride. She guessed no one in their little group enjoyed such attention and that they all shared some of the stubborn trait that would rather run them into the ground than be a burden to those around them.

Nick pulled the steed away from the grass by its halter and toward the garage. The horse wasn't happy and was on to him as soon as it guessed the direction. Troy had to push at its rear while Nick pulled at the halter before they got it inside. It was snorting and stomping in protest behind the closed door.

"He might alert the neighbors," Nick remarked. "We should hurry."

While Nick and Troy busied themselves with the horse, Alicia moved inside to shed her jacket. It was getting hot out again and she didn't need the extra layer like she had the night before. They had finished by the time she got back out and closed the door behind her (as best she could, anyway).

"Same route as yesterday or should we stick to the road?" she asked as she met up with them in the small driveway. Both options were risky. It was far less likely they'd be able to sneak past the trailers in broad daylight, but they didn't know what the road itself might hold. They'd have to find out sooner or later, though, if they were to bring the jeep here.

Troy didn't take Nick's threat seriously. If Alicia were in the positon, Troy'd have treated her the exact same way and so would Nick, if not worse. That's what caring was. You couldn't be at your worst in this world to be your best because there was always some snake — dead or alive — willing to strike. Troy'd been that snake for a long time and had Nick come to him in this condition then, he'd have been the first to go on pure principle. That, and easy target practice. The only reason his girlfriend had even lived was because of Madison and who Troy'd eventually recognized that Nick was.

But that was Troy. He had a vested interest. And thank God for that. That would have been a mistake. A big one Troy wouldn't even have known he'd made.

"If he goes Rambo on that door we're going to be eating horse steak tonight," Troy stated, leaning against the garage door, not hearing him going crazy inside but not hearing him settle either. "You two should stick to the route we took yesterday. And keep close. I'll check the road, make sure there isn't anything that'll puncture a tire and make sure we'll be able to get here safely. My only concern is actually doing it. There will be no way to do it quietly. If the jeep's there and we bring it up this way, given how quiet it is out here, someone is going to hear and someone is going to wonder."

He pushed away from the door, letting them mull it over, as well, and started to walk.

"That's why I said we can't continue hiding," Nick responded, following Troy. "If they're okay, we should introduce ourselves. If they're not, we better leave. We don't need another war for property."

Alicia followed in her brother's wake, half-jogging a few feet to catch up with the two. "Agreed. It ends badly for everyone."

Everything that happened at the ranch should have been proof of that. She still wasn't sure Troy agreed, but surely he wouldn't go off waging a war on his own. He could be reckless, but he wasn't stupid.

"So what, we go up to the door, knock and politely introduce ourselves?" Troy'd let them take the lead on that and clean up the mess, if any. He fell back a step, removed his gun from his waistband, and checked how many rounds he had left and put it back, covering it with the hem of his shirt.

"They might beat us to it if our horse or our car introduce us." Nick steered into the woods to replicate the path they took last night, except for avoiding the trailers altogether.

Once more Alicia followed as Nick veered off, pushing branches out of her path with both hands as they walked. The forest had looked thicker last night. Now she could see it in daylight, it was actually quite sparse in places, allowing them to move easier. It wasn't long before they could see the trailers in the distance, and even if there was still quite the distance between the trio and them, she lowered her voice to a whisper when she next spoke.

"I only saw two men last night. Did you get a clear look at who the others were?"

"I noticed some fresh tire tracks before the sun drifted out but that could belong to their car," Troy said. "All I know for sure is that there is two of them and that they have a dog. A small dog, probably."

He didn't like walking as they did, confident and like they had to trust in the decency in others, quieting the voice that told him to fall back, to let them go ahead and play back up.

The less those people knew of Troy's group's numbers, the better.

"There's no way of knowing how many there are," Nick said, looking between them. "We need to see more. But we gotta be prepared. We need our car."

Alicia nodded. "Let's hope it's still there." They continued to walk until the lake was out of sight. She began to recognize the road they'd taken the night before, the slight curves and bends, and before long, they were back where they'd parked the jeep. It looked fine and untouched from afar, but Alicia was still wary, approaching the vehicle with caution in case someone had indeed been here and left unpleasant surprises behind.

"We've got to be smart, revealing our resources and the fact that we aren't empty-handed – isn't. If the car is still where we hid it, we should leave it there until the pleasantries are out of the way."

And from what he could tell when they finally made it to the spot, it was still there, and untouched upon closer inspection. Did the people in the trailers not move down this road or did they only know what was around them? Whatever their thinking was, it worked in Clarks and Otto's favor.

The keys were still in his pocket. Troy unlocked the doors and examined the inside to double check. Nothing was out of place.

"So," he said, satisfied and unperturbed, "what's the plan? We uncover her and drive her on up or we shut her down and go make nice-nice with the neighbors?"

Nick pondered. "I'd drive it there first and then see if they come. But if we wanna be cautious, we should watch them first. Without it, we can't really know if they're okay or not. By the way, is that cabin we found really Jake's? I haven't seen any eighty-eight on it."

As Troy unlocked the doors, Alicia went in search of one of the water bottles she knew was still stowed under the seats. She took a sip once she found it, then another, before she offered the bottle to the other two.

A mild frown of contemplation crept onto her face at Nick's question. It hadn't even occurred to her to look for the number to make sure they were at the right place. Stupidly, Alicia had just assumed. Though now she thought if it, the cabin, had a distinct non-Jake feeling about it. It was much more likely it had belonged to the couple Troy had disposed of. "It's not, is it?" she asked, looking to Troy for confirmation on this one.

 _And when they do come, and they're armed, then what?_ Troy took the offered water and took a deep sip before extending it to Nick.

"No, it's not. I assumed it belonged to that couple. But we can still find his. And we can move."

He shifted away from the jeep, giving the isolated road a comb over, gaze fixated on the distance where he knew the trailers and a probable threat was.

"You two take the car and I'll make my way to the trailers. I'll see how many follow you two and what their intentions are."

"It's unknown territory and people," Nick reasoned. "Splitting is not the best idea. Whatever you will see won't help anyone if you're not gonna get to us ahead of them. Or if you start a shooting. Come with us, and we'll meet whatever comes together."

Safety in numbers. It had been a ranch-protocol, one Alicia'd experienced wasn't necessarily true when it came to the walking dead, but with the living it was probably more accurate. She looked between the two, gauging Troy's reaction to Nick's suggestion and held out her hand for the keys. With her driving it'd leave both boys free to shoot should the need arise, and she knew they were both better shots than she was.

First Nick chided Troy about babying him, and then he did the very same thing to Troy as if he feared — every moment of every second — that Troy was a loon with a trigger-happy finger. Troy admitted that only a couple of weeks ago there had been a reason, that in the past there were issues and causes to justify that, and that there still could be, but he wasn't looking to kill anyone here. It was strictly intended recon.

Was it that Nick didn't trust him? That he was keeping Troy close at hand like some sacrificial lamb to keep his crazy from spilling like Jake had tried to do for most of his sorry life?

Neither was wrong, Troy could admit that, but it didn't mean he liked or appreciated it.

He handed the keys to Alicia, cleared the wheels of any obstructions, and climbed into the back.

Troy's reaction flashed on his face, he didn't even have to voice anything. Nick could relate, but Troy was safer with them, as well as each of them. Even something as deceptively safe as investigating places could turn into a suicide when the wrong people were involved.

Nick claimed the shotgun seat, closed the door, then took the map.

"Is this really the only highway leading to the lake? If there would be another one to let us come from the opposite direction..."

Alicia got in the driver's seat and started the car, pulling onto the dirt road ahead and towards their temporary cabin. "It's the only one Jake told me about. Otherwise it would mean I'd have to extend my journey for a few hours by driving up and around." Alicia glanced at Nick and the map in his lap. "But there could be others."

Nick frowned, trying to estimate the distance. It didn't look good, but not too bad, either.

"Here's this Thomas Mountain road," he said, showing it to Alicia, trailing his finger along it. "It's a ninety-degree detour from this highway we're on right now. We ride along that road for a mile or so, then turn toward the lake before this mountain comes to our right. We're far enough from the trailers, and there's not too many trees to worry about the car. It's better than driving past the camping ground and alerting them before we're ready."

Nick's strategy didn't surprise Troy. Clark was pretty logical when he wanted to be. And Troy agreed with it. Happy that they weren't going to be riding alongside the trailers like they were just normal campers passing through to get to their own place.

In reality it would never be that way, and nor could it be. Not now. Not here.

He sat in the back and listened to the two discuss things for a while, feeling no inclination to add his own input since in reality, he was the trigger guy and already searching any movement on the roads. Anything that looked even a touch threatening.

Alicia threw a few more glances at the map as Nick plied her with information, slowing the car ever so slightly until she had inspected what she needed to.

"Okay. Remind me when it's time to turn off this road," Alicia turned her attention back on the car itself and the road ahead. She checked the rear view mirror with frequent intervals just to make sure no one was following, though she suspected Troy had an eye out as well and felt safer knowing that.

Nick folded the map and tossed it on the dashboard. There was nothing there they would need now that they knew how to do it.

The turn was pretty obvious, and he didn't need to point at it when Alicia was already on it herself. They followed it until the mountain was before them, then turned sideways, leaving it on the left as they went toward the lake, skirting around the rare trees. After a bit, they could see the house they had been occupying.

"We can park there and go to search for Jake's cabin on foot," Nick suggested.

The drive wasn't long until they reached the cabin, and like their walk — there were no bodies in sight or dead — like this place was carved out into a dead zone.

No wonder Jake wanted to come here.

From what Troy could tell, that land wasn't too destroyed, either, and there were bits you could table to make spots for vegetables or fruit, or even a horse pen. There were more than enough trees for all that. The nails, wire or rope to keep it all together would be the thing to search for.

Troy wondered why Jake didn't come sooner. Why he'd presented the idea and didn't just come despite Alicia's insistence to stay. Was it that he loved her so much that he didn't like the idea of leaving her to struggle with her family alone or another reason?

Alicia parked the car per Nick's suggestion, and pulled the keys from the ignition, reaching back over her shoulder to give them to Troy. It felt like his car more than hers or Nick's.

"Yeah, we should definitely see if we can find it. Jake said there would be supplies, and this cabin has none. Whether we stay here or there we can figure out once we know what we're dealing with."

She got out and stretched, closing the door behind her and listening for any sounds coming from the garage, trying to gauge whether the horse had settled down or not.

"We should give him a name," she murmured absentmindedly. "The horse, I mean. If we're gonna keep him, he might as well have a name."

"Be my guest, I'm not good with names." Nick closed the door as quietly as he could and surveyed the area. "I guess we should keep the lake to the right and the mountain to the left as we go. Jake's cabin can't be too far."

"You don't like Fido?" Troy asked as he got out, and closed the door behind him lightly. "You want to check on him and take him with us for the walk or are we going to just leave him in there for a bit and see what happens?"

"Fido is a dog's name," Alicia said. "And he had such a tragic fate. If we are to be the horse's new owners I'd rather not jinx it and have history repeat itself."

"Fair enough." Troy let them decide between themselves what they wanted to do with the horse, and jogged toward the cabin.

She moved towards the garage. "I'll check on him, but we shouldn't take him with us. I'll take him for a walk when we get back. Got any bags we can bring in case we find something of use?"

"He can't be locked up all the time, guys," Nick reasoned. "You wouldn't even let him pee this morning. Let him come. Or he might freak out and start banging at the door."

Alicia sighed, stopping in her stride to consider her brother. "And if we run into danger?"

Everything seemed like such a high risk when there was an innocent animal at stake, and already now she could feel herself tensing up at the thought of him getting hurt.

She didn't wait for an answer, assuming her concern would go unheard, anyway. She opened the garage and waited for the horse to approach, stroking his muzzle before starting on her way back, allowing him to follow at will.

Troy dumped the clothes from one of the suitcases the unfortunate couple had packed, and headed back out. "Are we going?"

"Guess so," Alicia said.

They went, steering between the trees, setting their course between the lake and the mountain. They formed a chain of three, keeping each other in the field of side-vision and covering more ground. The horse was following at his own pace, grabbing a bite of grass here and there as he went. There were no dead around, which was eerie to Nick. He didn't think it was possible to have such a vast piece of land without any. He didn't trust it.

Troy walked with one hand closed around the handle of his gun, untrusting of the serenity and the fact that they hadn't seen or heard any of the people they knew were in the area. On its best days, even while they kept things cleared and quiet around the ranch, it had never been this quiet or peaceful. There was always dead or drama out there somewhere. Always. Nothing was left untouched or without stain.

Unless, despite its former popularity, this place wasn't on anyone's radar. Or any radar, for that matter.

Troy stooped and tucked the suitcase under his arm, briefly breaking his concentration on their surroundings to poke the index finger from his free hand into the soil. The sand wasn't loose, but it was malleable, and with a bit of extra work and water it could probably grow something edible. He dropped the dirt back onto the ground and grabbed a handful of grass, sporadically feeding it to the horse as they walked, shaking off the rest before reclaiming the handle on the suitcase, passing first one cabin with the number sixty-four and then a few minutes later another labelled sixty-six. None seemed occupied from a distance, but he wasn't going to put any faith into that.

Even the place that they'd holed up in didn't look taken.

They happened upon eighty-eight thirty minutes later. It was closer to the lake, had its own pier from what Troy could tell, and was surrounded by an assortment of cars that almost looked as if they were a barricade.

There wasn't any dead around, and he didn't see old blood caked in the dirt. So, what – and who – were they trying to keep out with such shitty craftsmanship?

"Do we knock?"

Jake's cabin looked far more luxurious to Alicia than their current one. At least from the outside. But it didn't look entirely uninhabited. Question was: were the people in there alive or dead?

She squinted against the sun as they observed the cabin, pondering. "It's either that or throwing rocks."

The sight of the cars barricaded in a semi-circle around the cabin inspired a wary chill. There was not a sound coming from the house itself, but it only made the vibes scarier.

Nick started up the porch stairs to do what Troy suggested.

"Get out of here if you want to live," a male voice said from behind the door. "I'll shootcha."

Nick froze, eyeing the door and the windows. It was surreal, like he misheard something. Or it was all in his head. He darted a look at Troy behind him to see if he heard the same.

Given the stark silence it was hard not to hear the threat or to respond – even if Troy didn't outright see the culprit – which he did by automatically dropping the suitcase and grabbing Nick's shoulder to get him moving so that he could drop down to one knee next to Troy behind the shield of cars.

Like Nick, Alicia instinctively froze on the spot at the sound of a man's voice calling out threats, and as Troy pulled her brother away lowered to her haunches behind the nearest car. She threw a glance back over her shoulder to check on the horse. It was still grazing peacefully a short distance away and didn't seem to be bothered by the shouting match that ensued.

"We come in peace!" Troy yelled, though, in reality it sounded more like 'we'll shoot back!'

"I want no trouble! I don't suggest you come any closer!"

Before Troy could comprehend another threat, there was a pop and then a mild rush of noise as something close to the house exploded in a fine mist of black smoke, leaving behind a small wick of flame and a charred box. It wasn't enough to hurt anyone from where they were, but it was enough to make a point.

"That was jus' a warnin'. The rest is spread throughout 'em cars waitin' on my finger!"

The horse took off running in the direction they had come from. Alicia cursed under her breath, worrying she might not be able to find him again.

"This is my cabin!" Troy decided, trying at least to be reasonable, frowning when for a time, there appeared to be silence, and then he'd returned, and being careful not to reveal himself in the windows.

"Bullshit! It ain't!"

 _Well, he has me there_ , Troy thought.

He glanced between the two and snapped off the safety on the gun, giving the both of them a 'well, I tried' look.

"Don't!" Alicia hissed in warning, praying he wouldn't go on some rampage to 'defend his land'. This was a nice place but it wasn't worth killing over. Or dying for. "Alright," she called, slowly getting to her feet, hands open and raised to show she didn't mean any harm. She wasn't in direct view of the windows, but whoever was inside could probably catch a glimpse. "We'll leave. This used to be his brother's place. We thought it might be safe."

Information offered only to appease and to test what kind of person they were dealing with. She backtracked a little, out of reach from the windows, hands still raised, eyeing Troy and Nick on the ground some twenty feet away.

"We don't need another war," she reminded them, certain her brother would agree. Troy… he was anyone's guess.

Alicia beat Nick to the warning for Troy when he saw him readying an attack or something similar. Nick could relate to the sentiment of his brother's place being held by someone else. But it didn't change the fact that they needed no more shootings and killing, be it a house, some land, or a bag of groceries.

Alicia's doggedness didn't go unnoticed, but it wasn't as effective as her brother's hand on Troy's shoulder, squeezing as though he was trying to pull the trigger on Troy or at least silence it.

"What's yer name, ye brother?" the man from the house asked.

"His name's Troy Otto," Nick called, his hand on the said brother's shoulder to ensure he stayed down and not ran forth shooting at the door. "It's his brother Jake's cabin."

There was a long silence, then some metal latches inside switched, and the door opened, revealing a man of around sixty with a hunting shotgun. He looked both wary and worried. "Where's Jake?"

When Troy heard the door open and the man enquire about Jake, he shook off Nick's hand and stood to join Alicia who was pretty much waving her white flag. Troy gauged the man's threat level, his concern, a look that was familiar but unfamiliarly directed at him.

Troy slipped the safety back on and felt the tension from the two beside him drain like that dam they'd run from.

"He died," Troy supplied.

A look of grief flashed across the man's face. "That's a darn shame. He was a good upstanding youngin'."

Troy gave a nod of agreement and actually meant it. Jake was good, and he did deserve better than he got.

The man peered between the three of them, and then slowly started down the porch steps, his gun limp at his side, his right foot dragging slightly as if he'd hurt himself or was suffering the onset of arthritic knees.

Who knew with old people, right?

Alicia did breathe a little easier when Troy put his gun away, and even more so when the elderly man approached them with kindness, his own weapon no longer pointed their way.

"You dun' look like him," the old man stated, not as an accusation or out of malice, but as an observation.

"He was my half-brother."

"He neva spoke much of his family and I only ever saw him with those college friends of his. He ever marry that gal? Uhh… the brunette, the glasses—"

It took Troy a second to get over the casualness of this conversation, especially since a minute ago he'd been contemplating riddling both the man and the cabin with bullets.

"No. If you're referring to Qwen – she died."

The man's face scrunched up with distaste and he shook his head gently. "No one's safe anymore."

"Actually," Troy retorted, more so out of his appreciation of facts and relevance, "she died in a car accident before the dead started taking over."

The man frowned and appeared to study him.

Now, that was a look Troy knew. The one most people fixed him with when they tried to figure the youngest Otto out.

Troy smiled slightly, politeness he'd used on Madison, Alicia and various other people. Like a mask. The man studied him and then veered his attention to Nick and Alicia, visibly more relaxed with what he saw there.

"Wouldja like to come in?"

It was made clear during the brief conversation the two exchanged that the man had known Jake. At least somewhat. And that made Alicia feel a whole lot better about this situation.

"Sure," she said in response to the man's offer, giving him a smile. "Um, let me just go check on our horse first. He kind of ran off during all the… commotion."

"Ye have a horse?" the man raised his eyebrows. "Ye dragged it all the way here from that farm?"

"No, we found him on our way," Nick said, looking after Alicia as she strode away. "He was scared, and we took him with us."

"Well, there's no barn to keep 'em, but east from here there's… eh… Garner Ranch. They still keep cattle. Good people. Unlike those campers sons a' bitches, pardon my French."

He turned and started back to the cabin muttering something about no respect for property in today's youth.

Troy slipped the gun into the waistband of his pants and gestured for Nick to go ahead, following Alicia with his eyes as she went in search of the horse. He didn't watch her long before he eased between the cars and trailed after the two, pausing to inspect the box that had blown as a warning.

"It's a homemade smoke bomb," the man pointed out when he saw Troy taking interest.

"Effective," Troy supplied, respecting the old man's ingenuity. He continued on inside and gestured for the youth to follow. Unlike the metallic barricade on the outside, the inside was more home than warzone.

"You want a coffee?" the man offered, further adding to the surrealism.

Troy glanced at Nick to make sure he'd heard correctly, and then nodded slowly. "Sure."

"Help yerself. Unfortunately, I don' have any milk. If you like sugar tho'…"

Troy opened his mouth to say thank you, and then snapped it closed again like he suddenly thought better of it. He glanced around the open plan living room and kitchen, much like the cabin they'd stayed in the night before, only bigger. There were wooden chairs with solid brown cushions, wood stacked in the corner of the room next to the fireplace for convenience, a table laden with more boxes and ingredients you wouldn't know were used for bombs unless you actually made them.

Where'd he even get those supplies?

Not that they were hard to come by.

Troy didn't see any guns but he assumed those where upstairs somewhere out of sight and out of mind.

"Are you living alone?" he asked.

The old man smiled slightly but didn't say anything.

"Should we wait for the youn' gal to join us or would you like to get to the point of yer bein' here?"

Troy arched a brow, shared another look with Nick, and waited for the man to continue.

"Ye wan' the cabin, right? That's why yer here?"

* * *

Alicia found the horse a good ten minutes later, in between the trees of the forest they had worked their way through earlier. The horse was pawing at the ground, moving fallen leaves aside to get to the vegetation beneath. It startled a little as she approached but didn't run, and it wasn't long until it allowed her to pet it. She took hold of his halter and led the animal back towards Jake's cabin, releasing it once the line of cars came into view. It went back to grazing the same patch it'd occupied before the explosion, and she left it there to go find Nick and Troy.

* * *

"We came here to check on it," Nick said, unsure why he should answer any of it when it was none of his business or brother. "But even if we stay awhile, it doesn't mean you have to leave, sir."

"Henry," the man said. "Name's Henry Jervis. And that's very kind, but I only sat here to make sure no bastard did."

"Looks like you did a good job of that," Troy stated, walking over the dinner table to get a closer look at the ingredients and items that were laid on it.

Henry followed him with his eyes, unconcerned, and then moved toward the kitchen to turn on the stove. It was gas but could easily be converted to a wood stove.

"How long have you been staying here?" Troy asked.

"A couple of months. I had my own spot close to the lake – down at the trailers, by the bait shop – but ever since them young thugs came in, it's been rowdy and threatnin' and harassin'."

"And they don't bother you here?"

"They tried. Multiple times. But after my smoke shows and a bullet in the leg of one of 'em bastards, I predict their thought is that I'm goin' to kick it and they'll takeover."

"Surely this isn't the only good cabin out here?"

"It's spacious, access right next to the lake…"

 _Right. Water._

"But they have that at the trailers, too."

"True but those metal boxes ain't made for all year round and winter can be tough."

Troy guessed it made sense. Or maybe as a group the trailer people just felt compelled and like they owned everything. That they were strong enough to take it.

"Is your lady friend okay out there on her own?" Henry asked, walking toward the kitchen, glancing between the two boys, his eyes briefly darting to the door as if expecting to see her at any moment.

There was no one outside, anymore, so Alicia assumed the three men had made their way into the cabin. She gingerly stepped around the cars, a little wary she might set off some new explosions that weren't rigged to go off by remote control. Who knew what kind of other defense systems that old man had put up?

She managed to get to the door without incident and knocked politely before poking her head inside, emerging fully when she saw them all gathered in the open-plan living room and kitchen. She gave a small smile to their host, automatically seeking out Nick and moving to stand beside him, her gaze wandering the interior of the cabin.

"Yep, she's fine," Nick said as Alicia came in.

The cabin didn't give off that Jake-vibe she had expected, but the old man and Troy's earlier conversation had reminded her she probably didn't even know who Jake truly was. They'd never spoken of past boyfriends and girlfriends. They'd hardly exchanged information about the past at all, most of their conversations centered on the future of the ranch and what needed to be done.

She felt a pang of regret for not grieving him like she should have. He deserved better than what she had given him.

"Horse is fine," she told them, fixing the man with another polite smile as he shuffled around the kitchen. "I'm Alicia."

"I'm Henry, young miss," the man said, smiling, and waved a hand to the chairs. "Take a seat, we'll see about some coffee."

He shot a glance between Nick and Troy before he reached for a coffee tin.

"So, yer Troy Otto, and she's Alicia, and you are…"

"Nick," he replied. "Alicia's brother. We're friends of the Otto family, lived at the ranch for a while."

He exchanged glances with Troy as Henry turned his back to him.

"What happened to Jake? And, I assume, the ranch? If ye don' mind my askin'."

"A massive horde of the dead happened upon the ranch and my brother got caught in the crossfire trying to defend it," Troy said. A simple explanation that was fairly close to the truth.

"Ye make it sound like war."

"It is. Especially out there."

Henry nodded and set out four metal cups, filling each of them with a spoon of coffee.

"Do you take sugar, miss? Nick? Troy?"

"I'll take three," Troy said.

Henry set aside the coffee and added the three scoops specified, waiting on the other two's wishes.

"No sugar, thanks," Alicia responded, surprised and pleased by the offer of coffee. She missed coffee. A lot.

Nick shook his head a no, as well.

"Do you get much dead out here?" Troy asked.

"A few. But they're typically old residents that have either been trapped in their cabins or accidentally set free by that lot at the lake during their huntin'."

"You don't kill them?"

"I never need to," he supplied, stepping away from the mugs to check on the kettle, to add more water to the metal camping jug and to add it to the gas stove to heat up. "Are you hungry, Nick?" he asked, regarding Clark with a knowing eye, his attention shifting between the three of them as he walked over to a basket in the corner filled with a mixture of red and green apples.

"Yeah, actually, I am," Nick reacted and caught an apple as Henry tossed it at him.

Neither Troy nor Nick looked like they intended to sit at Henry's request, but Alicia did, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table and watching as he shuffled to his collection of apples.

"You know those people by the lake?" Alicia asked, trying not to look all that eager at the prospect of fresh fruit.

"Yeah, I've been tellin' the guys what kind of bastards those are," Henry said to Alicia, handing her the coffee. "They're bad news. Want to get their hands on everythin', cabins, the ranch cattle. The ranch guys shot one of 'em as they tried to steal a cow."

"How many of them are there?"

"Far 's I can tell… ten, fifteen. Seems as some either decided to leave or ran into some trouble. I haven't needed to venture down there in a while to check on 'em."

After handing out an apple to each of them, Henry returned to the water, checked it and steadily began to pour it into each mug, filling them generously. When done, he handed them out and joined Alicia at the table.

That was disconcerting. If they'd been giving everyone else in the area trouble, Alicia doubted they would choose not to do the same with the three of them. She looked between Nick and Troy to see if they had any thoughts on the matter, but neither's face betrayed much of what they were feeling at current.

Troy didn't sit with them, choosing to stand between the living room and the kitchen, studying the room a bit more, recognizing a few things that belonged to Jake's mother and a lot that screamed Jake.

There was no Jeremiah here. No Troy. Not even a picture.

Troy ate his apple quickly, setting the stem aside on the counter, sipping at his coffee.

"How long have you kids been here?"

"Just since last night," Alicia said, pulling her cup of coffee closer before biting into her apple. It tasted heavenly, making her mouth tingle and her stomach contract with hunger before she could even start chewing. "Became hard to find our way in the dark."

"I see," Henry said, sipping his coffee, eyeing them in turn. "If ye plan on stayin', the cabin's good. But on the long run, I suggest ye introduce yerselves to the ranch people. They good people, and friends are needed most these days. If ye take yer horse to 'em, it's a nice start."

Nick finished his apple and drank his coffee, enjoying the bitter heat of it. It was stupidly comforting, like another day in normal world. Like nothing outside the door mattered.

"If you know them, wouldn't they take you in?" he asked.

"They offered," Henry said and shrugged with a melancholic smile. "I just wanted to keep this safe. 'T was my job, I was gonna see it through. So I did. Darn shame Jake hasn't." He raised his mug: "To Jake. He was a good fella. Darn shame. Darn shame, indeed."

Troy raised his coffee mug in honor of his brother and smiled genuinely.

They drank.

People always spoke well of Jake — most people aside from Madison — but for the first time that fact didn't annoy Troy or prick at his former resentment. It was different now. Jake couldn't be better than him, he couldn't judge his little brother, and he couldn't judge anything, period.

He was gone. A _memory_.

Alicia didn't raise her mug like Henry and Troy did, but she drank, averting her gaze from the old, sweet man's scrutinizing eyes. Troy didn't seem affected by talk of his brother in the least. She wondered how he did it, if it was a front meant to fool them all, or if it genuinely didn't matter to him.

If what happened to Jake had happened to Nick, she would be broken, and she imagined even the mention of his name would send her into some comatose state of grief and render her useless.

Troy blew on the coffee to cool it and sipped at it again, drinking it slowly, continuously while they spoke.

"Anyone for another apple?" Henry asked.

Troy rose a hand and walked over to the basket to help himself.

"They from the ranch."

Troy could believe it and a part of him envied it. He picked up one for himself and another, gesturing at the three, waiting to see if anyone else needed another.

Alicia shook her head at the offer of another apple, still working on her first one.

"How long are ye plannin' on stayin'?" Henry asked.

"Indefinitely," Troy supplied.

"So, is that where you'll go?" Alicia asked Henry. "The ranch?"

Was it even safe for him to get over there on his own? He wasn't all that sprightly.

"If ye insist I leave – yeah, I'd go there, I guess," he said. "But before winter comes, this house's fine to be. Whatcha gonna do with yer horse, though, fellas?"

Nick glanced at Alicia, somehow thinking it was her decision mostly. He didn't view himself as the horse's master.

"It'd be nice to find him a place to stay," he said. "But, given the trailer people, I guess we need you to introduce us, Henry. If it's possible."

"Sure thing it is," he nodded. "Better to make a loop around the other side of the lake. They'll want yer horse for eatin'."

"Then we should take him now," Troy said. "Before the day's end. Even if we brought the jeep around in a way we hope is quiet, people like that will sniff out new meat and he is a literal sitting duck out there."

He glanced out the front door in search of the horse and found it grazing somewhere off to the side.

"We can do that," the old man added, almost jolly. He eased off his chair and set aside his unfinished coffee. "I could do with a few more eggs anyway. Especially with guests."

He winked and ambled out of the kitchen, walking over to a hall closet that held a couple of winter jackets, winter boots, a fishing rod and a hunting rifle. He shrugged into a jacket and then slung the rifle over his shoulder, slipping a few more bullets into his pockets.

For someone who'd met them less than thirty minutes ago, he was very trusting.

"Shall we?"

Alicia finished her coffee and apple, but kept the core as well as Troy's discarded ones. The horse would like it.

"And you're sure they'll treat him right at this ranch?"

She had to ask. Horses were great and could be used for farm-work, but they wouldn't provide its people with eggs like the chickens or milk like the cows. And they needed a lot of food. That could be draining on a farmstead if they didn't have enough resources.

"They have horses there," Henry told her as they walked out.

Outside, she coaxed the horse to her and fed him what remained of the apples, resting her forehead against his as he chewed happily, slobbering over the flat of her palm. She knew it was for the best, and yet it felt oddly similar to the time they had to give up their family dog, Bob, when she was seven due to Dad's allergies.

Henry smiled watching Alicia feed the horse the apple cores. "It's the right thing, before those bastards find out ye have a horse. And ye got nowhere to put 'em here. It's the right thing to give 'em proper home."

He started walking, Troy and Nick followed. It was going to be a long walk – circling around the lake to avoid the trailers area. Nick wasn't sure they would make it back here before dark, but didn't say anything. The old man was right, the horse needed his place for the night, and they had nowhere to put him.

Henry closed the cabin door behind them but didn't lock it, Troy noticed.

"Aren't you worried they'll find out you're not here and take your shit?" he asked.

"My shit?" Henry repeated, smiling, amused by what Troy assumed was viewed as a swear word in his eyes. "No. They not that brave. They bullies. Besides…"

He pointed to the earth, to mole hills one wouldn't notice at first glance. Troy paused and looked around them, noticing that they were everywhere and that it was absolute miracle they hadn't stepped on any.

"Landmines. In theory. Homemade. They don' have enough juice to blow yer foot off or even a leg, heaven forbid, but it's enough of a deterrent if they ever decide to take the risk with the cars."

The more Troy got to know this old geezer, the more impressed he became.

Alicia instantly became more cautious after Henry pointed out more of his homemade defense systems, taking hold of the horse's halter to steer him around those potential traps. She didn't want him running off again.

"I'll let ye in on a secret," Henry said, lowering his voice to a whisper, pretending only to speak to Alicia as he swayed toward her slightly. "Most of them are just duds."

Troy laughed lightly.

"Did you serve in the war before?" he asked as Henry led them around.

"In the sixties, sure, we all did. It was mandated unless ye were fortunate enough to have a family member in a high position or were sick enough to cope out. I was neither."

"You worked explosives?"

"Artillery. You learn a lot in the dregs. And on google."

Before the internet crashed, along with power and everything else that kept them connected to the rest of the world, Troy'd been an avid user of the information highway himself. There was a lot to learn. A pity there was no way to reach it now as he was eager to read other people's take and studies on what was happening.

Alicia noticed Troy was good at that - making people talk without really giving much of himself in return.

She looked to Nick at her side, her voice low so to not disturb the two up front. "Think we'll be able to stay a while without starting a war with the people in the campers?"

She knew that Nick, like her, was not eager to get into another turf-war. That had been Mom's thing, not theirs.

Nick heaved a sigh, looking down under his feet as they walked, partially listening to Troy and Henry converse.

"You wanna stay here?" he asked, turning to gauge her expression.

"I don't know," she confessed, pausing briefly to tug the horse's head away from a new patch of juicy grass he'd just spotted. "It would be nice to have a few days to… wind down." She had no better word for it. But they all knew constant travelling was draining, and she often felt future plans were made more sensibly when they weren't under pressure. "But as a long-term thing, I don't know."

Nick nodded, looking ahead at Troy and Henry's backs.

"Frankly, it doesn't look good here," he shared. "It's like the ranch. There are good guys and there are bad guys who don't wanna leave. And they shoot at each other whenever they get a chance. Long term - we're in the same pit as we have been back with Jeremiah. It's a great spot here, and these trailer guys won't leave for as long as they think they can win it."

"I know," she agreed. "I'm not going back to another ranch-situation. I can't. I don't know what Troy is expecting from this but…" She shook her head, glancing up at her brother. "It's what Mom always tries to do, and it never works."

"I've no free spots for new guilt left to carry," Nick said honestly. "This won't work for us. If we want to come unscathed, we'll need to leave. Before another battle breaks out."

They were in agreement, then. Now it just depended on whether Troy would see things their way or if he would prefer a battle with the lake-people.

They walked in silence for a while, her mind occupied with thoughts of the ranch and everything that had happened there.

"You feel guilty about Jeremiah?" They hadn't really talked about it in depth when it first happened. Alicia had only revealed she knew, and Nick had expressed some guilt about having 'taken' Troy's father from him. But she wondered if he regretted the act itself.

Nick winced subtly. It wasn't his favorite topic. They had so many of those in the last two days, it seemed like some neverending confession round at Sunday church.

"It coulda been avoided," he admitted. "I could've let mom do it. I could've just left with Luciana and none of it woulda been on me personally, but I couldn't leave and that was final. Yeah, I regret that it happened that way. That we took sides and drastic measures. I do feel guilt. It wasn't my place to take his life. And I do feel guilt for how easy it was. For how easy I made it. He seemed like a different man at first, and then all this ugliness came pouring out, and it made it easier. But I'll always hate myself for it."

Alicia could understand that. She hadn't liked Jeremiah by the end, either, but she was grateful she had not been part of his death. Killing could never truly be a good thing, and both she and Nick had learned that the hard way.

She nodded, keeping her eyes on the ground to avoid staring. Having eyes on you while confessing something difficult never helped.

"Do you think Mom feels guilty for the things she's done?"

She really wanted her to. Alicia wanted her to be capable of that human emotion, even when Madison was under the assumption everything she'd done was for the greater good. Nick and Alicia's greater good. But Alicia wondered sometimes if Madison was able.

Nick swallowed, reluctant to think about it. He hadn't indulged in that. He was afraid to.

"Remember she told us that story about her father and what she did?" He looked at her. "The whole point was to insist she had to. That someone had to, and it was her because her mother wouldn't save herself. She told us how she would love to indulge in feelings but then someone has to be strong to do what's necessary.

"I think whenever she decided that something has to be done, she doesn't let the guilt through."

"Yeah," Alicia whispered. "It scares me."

It made her doubt whether she'd ever be able to live side by side with their mother again. It almost made Alicia wish she didn't love Mom so much. Because surely things would have been easier then. But there was nothing to do about that. Madison was her mother, _their_ mother, no matter what. Things had been good once.

Long ago.


	10. Chapter 10

**RIVER FLOWS NORTH — PART 8**

Troy walked alongside Henry, pulling away from the siblings, talking about what dead he'd seen, what he knew about the area, what he knew about the group at the trailers and if they'd scavenged other areas and where the lake's water supply came from and how long he thought it would last.

Henry didn't seem to see his questions as prying and good-naturedly answered them one by one. Information Otto stored for later use.

After a while, and when the path became a tad trickier, the conversation drifted and Troy was able to bestow Nick and Alicia with consideration again. From the look on both their faces, they'd had another talk.

Why did they keep doing that to themselves? Why couldn't they just let go?

When they reached the outskirts of the ranch, Henry gestured for the youth to stay back, to let him go ahead for a second and to wait. He didn't want to spook his friends by having all four of them all come up on them without warning.

Troy gave a nod and watched him walk across an expanse of grass that was green and lush in places, a far cry from the near-desert surroundings that had covered the ranch.

There was fencing, doubled up with the usual, a truck Troy knew used to carry feed as they'd used a lot of the same brand, and a couple of added trailer homes set out beside another house. The set up was crude but from what Troy could tell – it looked structured. At least in part. He could see a couple of weaknesses here and there.

He averted his gaze and fixated on the two beside him.

"You sure you really want to give Fido away?"

Nick shrugged and glanced to Alicia. "If it's best for him, if there's food and shelter, then he's better off there. All we can offer is a nomad lifestyle and all that comes with it – no consistency."

"Nick's right," Alicia said, watching Henry's disappearing from view as he rounded what appeared to be the main house. "We can't properly care for him. And we'd always have to worry."

The horse tugged out of her grasp to pick at the grass at their feet.

" _I'd_ worry," she amended, not automatically assuming the same went for Troy. Though he had shown some uncharacteristic consideration for the creature since they found it. "It's for the best."

Whatever plans Troy'd had about using the horse as an anchor to stay in a certain place for a few days or even weeks fell through, but maybe that was okay?

Maybe the horse wasn't needed.

They'd been walking for almost forty minutes or so and hadn't come upon any dead.

Henry spoke to the man at the entrance, gestured to the group — probably the horse — repeating whatever he was saying to another woman who'd joined, and then eventually signaled for the three to go over.

"Looks like we're being summoned," Troy muttered, starting ahead of the two, prepared to take whatever hits might come, smiling as they approached.

"This is Troy, Alicia and her brother Nick," Henry said, introducing them to the couple. Mother and son, if the resemblance was anything to go by.

"If you'd be so kind as to give your weapons to my son, you're free to come in."

Nick exchanged looks with Alicia. It resembled Otto's ranch, painfully so. But it was a logical request. Anyone who'd been at this survival awhile would have that code at their home.

He pulled his knife out of the sheath and held it out, handle to them. The young guy took it, the woman smiled a little.

"My name's Rosemary, and this is Cole," she introduced. "We're glad to see new friendly faces. We haven't been that lucky lately. My husband George and a few others should return soon with the cattle. We shall see about your horse then, if that's all right? Meanwhile, there's some tea and a pie."

Alicia was always hesitant to give up her weapons, but she understood the need for their request. Mutual trust was needed if they were going to work together. And, because of the horse, she supposed, in a way, they would be.

She reached into her boot to grab her knife, handing it over to Cole after Nick did, and met Rosemary's gaze with a small smile.

"That'd be great. Thank you. Is there anywhere I can put him while we wait?" She gestured to the horse at her side.

"One of the paddocks is available," Cole said. "I can take him there. Get him some hay and water."

He looked to his mother rather than Alicia for confirmation. Rosemary gave a nod of approval, and Cole moved to take the horse off Alicia's hands as the woman gestured for them to follow her.

Henry made no move to give off his own rifle so Troy assumed the weapon exchange was a mere show meant for them three.

He got it. They had the power, this was their home and they dictated it as so.

He removed the gun from his waist and handed it over. Cole gathered them to his chest and then handed them over to someone else who'd come to join the party.

They smiled but didn't introduce themselves, moving to set the collected weapons in a bucket resting upon a hay bale that outlined the perimeter as extra defense or provided post seating.

Whatever it was, in part Troy almost wished he'd thought of it. But hay wasn't easy to come by where they were.

While they walked toward the main house, Rosemary told them they had a few families living on the ranch now, including the original founding family members, which she was a part of. She shared that the new group in the trailers by the lake had arrived about three weeks ago and had been disrespectful to any property or boundaries, attempting to steal their cattle and shooting two of their cows in the process. There was no debating with those people, for they believed the current state of the world gave them freedom to do as they pleased and take whatever there was that they deem up for the taking, no ownership questioned. Henry had been the ranchers' friend, and they would be taking him in if he decided to move from the cabin.

"Will you be living in that cabin now?" Cole asked as they all sat at their big table sipping hot tea. "I mean, you came for it, right? That gang's gonna be a pain, though. Just sayin."

"They ain't goin' to leave, I foresee that much," Henry agreed, chewing on his cake.

"We came here because Jake believed it would be safe," Alicia revealed, cradling her cup with both hands. "He was planning to come here himself, but… things got in the way."

Rosemary continued to cut the apple pie after giving Henry the first portion, carefully scooping out pieces on plates and making Cole hand them out. Alicia didn't immediately dig into hers, even if it was damn tempting. This was another rare treat. Last one in a while, she reckoned, so she wanted it to last.

"We haven't really decided what to do yet. Couldn't make any solid decisions before we saw the cabin itself. Might not have been habitable after all this time."

She exchanged a look with Nick, choosing not to divulge that both of them were reluctant to stay with a dangerous mob so close by. They hadn't discussed it with Troy yet, and this wouldn't be the best platform to start.

Troy took the pie as it was offered to him, considering, and set it down in front of him, waiting until her son tucked in before helping himself to a bite.

"Had I not stuck around as I did, I don't believe that it would be," Henry said. "Those ruffians are dismantling that place cabin by cabin and soon there will be nothing for them to take and they'll simply burn it down."

Troy couldn't see that as a smart move because even without food, four walls and a roof over your head was enticement enough to want to stick around and make it work. Especially in an area where the dead hadn't taken over.

"What about the lake? Does it have fish?" he asked.

"A lot. Rosemary and I have a deal in place. I provide her with fish as often as I deem necessary and she gives me either eggs or whatever else she can spare to keep me going for the week."

Before he could extend them the deal or ask to take over were they to claim the cabin, Rosemary interjected, "How's the pie?"

"It's magnificent," Nick praised honestly, and took a sip of tea to wash it down. "It's been forever and a day since we had a pie, especially one so good. Thank you."

She beamed. "I'm glad you like it. The season's been generous with apples."

"Ye have the best pie in the county," Henry said. "And the best cider."

"Oh, almost forgot," Rosemary said, getting up, and walked out. She returned in a minute with three huge bottles filled with dark yellow liquid. Nick assumed it was the cider. "Since now you're with guests," she said, setting the bottles on the table before Henry.

"Gosh, thank you, Rosy," Henry grinned. "I'm almost through the one from last week."

They sat for another hour while waiting for her husband and company to come back from the fields. Rosemary expressed her concern about everyone who was stuck out there in the world surviving while they thanked God every day for their home and the things they had.

When George came back, they were introduced to him, their elder son Matthew and the head of another family residing here, Clayton.

George was extremely pleased with the horse after the check-up of his teeth and state. He said the steed was about four years old and good for breeding and cowboy duties.

"A horse's a perfect asset to a ranch," George said, stroking the animal's neck. "And this one's in good shape. A bit thinner, but that's fixable. If you mean to give him to us, that means we going to be friends." He grinned at them. "If you stay around in the cabin, need any help – you're always welcome in our house. And surely for visits. If winter gets too tough, we can find you shelter and food – for some labor input, of course. That's the currency these days, which works. There's always something to do around the farm to put some food on the tables for dinner. So you just know, guys, if anything."

They thanked, smiled and repeated how they didn't really know whether they'd stay.

"Well, if you happen around here some other times, just know the invitation stays. We know it's tough out there, so yeah. And if you find another horse," he laughed. They did, too. The guy seemed okay.

But then again, Jeremiah was a cowboy dream of a daddy figure himself at the start. Nick wasn't into falling for a pretty picture, anymore. Though, he did like this one. There was that.

* * *

The ranch-life seemed so idyllic compared to everything else they'd seen out there, and despite Alicia's terror of repeating their past mistakes, it was easy to be lulled into a false sense of security by these nice people who welcomed them with open arms.

And yet, reality came seeping back in as Alicia helped Rosemary with the dishes after dinner. George had taken Nick, Troy, and Henry to the guesthouse they'd borrow for the night, and Cole and Matthew left to check on the animals one last time before bed. In the kitchen, it was just the two of them.

Rosemary had heated up some water and was washing the plates and cutlery, while Alicia was on drying-duty, patting everything dry with a dish towel and little by little putting everything away in the cupboards.

"If you do decide to stay, I feel I must warn you," Rosemary said after a few minutes of dull small talk. "Those brutes down by the lake will come to pay you all a visit sooner or later."

Alicia nodded, wary but feeling as though that particular point had already been made clear. It was why Alicia was reluctant to stay.

"You're a very pretty girl, Alicia," the woman continued.

Alicia didn't thank her because, honestly, the way she said it didn't exactly make it sound like a compliment.

"And that's a very dangerous thing. Especially these days."

Alicia paused her work to look at the older woman, not liking the direction this conversation was headed. "What are you saying?"

Rosemary sighed, trying to choose her words carefully.

"I'm saying, if I had a daughter, there's no way in hell I'd ever let her out of my sight. Not with those thugs around. I'm saying… please be careful."

Alicia swallowed, slowly returning to the plate she was rubbing dry. "Did something happen with any of the women here?"

The woman shook her head. "No. Thank God. But we have better protection than most. And the men, even my George, bless him, they tend to forget what it's like for us gals. They think guns and the undead are the worst that can happen."

She shot the girl a significant look.

"But we know better."

* * *

It was getting dark rapidly as they were thinking of going back, and the Thomas family offered them to stay the night in one of their guest houses that was still empty. It had two beds, but they had sleeping bags to share. Given the threat in the trailers – even though Henry kept grumbling they'd be fine – Troy and Nick decided to play it safe.

They treated the guests to a fried chicken and potatoes dinner and showed them to the guesthouse. It was simple, just one room with a fireplace and two beds. Troy and Nick claimed the sleeping bags and the floor. Henry sipped some cider and hit the sack while the youth lingered outside on the porch. The ranch seemed vast, the sky was full of stars, and it was nice to not be hungry for a change.

Troy had that spark in his eye. Nick read it as longing and doubted he had it wrong.

"You want all that back, don't you?" he asked unnecessarily, lighting a cigarette, and sat down on the porch.

* * *

Alicia left the main house feeling a little unnerved. It wasn't that the idea of such a threat hadn't occurred to her before. She'd just never truly been given a reason to examine it further.

She approached the guesthouse slowly, eyeing the stars up above as she walked, trying to enjoy the beautiful show they were putting on. She could see the barest outline of Troy and Nick out on the porch, one of them (she assumed Nick) holding a lit cigarette glowing dimly in the dark.

* * *

There was a diplomatic air to this ranch that had never been present at Otto's own despite its rustic setting and security. Jeremiah was in charge and that was it. He said what went and what didn't, and Troy imposed the rules. There was no leniency or negotiation with outside fractions. A lot of people had stumbled upon them in time, those from town, locals that Jake had gone to school with and some Troy'd seen from arbitrary trips into town for supplies. He'd never known them by name and nor did he trust them.

He didn't trust these people either, finding their cozy step up to be too idyllic. Nothing like that existed. Nor did it before.

Troy was envious, though, and nostalgic. His ranch hadn't been perfect, but it was structured, and he'd worked at it every day to keep it from deteriorating, and he believed that, had he not brought Madison in, it would still be there.

He'd seen her out there, blond hair, motherly fussing, and immediately latched on like a desperate child who'd just gotten lucky with an esteemed toy. He'd been blinded. He should have known better.

He should have killed Walker and his people and been done with it, and sent Madison on her way.

The end.

Only it didn't pan out that way, and here he was, sitting on a stranger's porch, a close replica of what his own had looked like, and with no idea where he'd be next week.

It took Troy a minute, but he slowly nodded in response to Nick's question.

"I do. It's all I knew. It's all I know. You don't? I know the ranch wasn't exactly home to you, but for a while there, while you were taking over Russell's place you seemed to be resigned to sticking down roots."

Nick chuckled softly, taking a drag, thinking about the implication.

"I have thought about it," he confessed. "A lot. I don't know, Troy. It's like I've been trying to rather resign myself to those roots than actually wanting to do it. That place before yours, in Baja, and the colony after that where I met Luciana - those have been too much pain. I wasn't ready for a repetition and got it, anyway."

Alicia climbed the stairs to the front porch in time to hear the last of Nick's sentence. It was enough that she could understand the context of their conversation, but she didn't interrupt. Instead, she gestured for her brother to share his pack of cigarettes and perched on the railing with his lighter once he handed it to her.

Troy shadowed Alicia with his eyes as she joined them, unconcerned with having her hear their conversation or interject. He had nothing to hide.

"And what do you think was the opposing object in all those instances? Did you do something wrong? You say all these places repeated a pattern of destruction, but maybe it was you, your habits and way of dealing."

Nick heaved a sigh, painful inside his chest, and looked up at the stars.

"The place in Baja wasn't my fault directly – I wasn't even there when it fell. The second place had its unstable situation with the drug gang before I came around. All I did was buy them a little time, and then helped convince people to leave. Otherwise, they'd be dead. Including me, if I chose to stay. That danger was a result of their leader's doing. My doing was that I brought them right to you where they were shot at and killed for experiments. So you tell me about my ways of dealing."

"And what, you feel like it was your fault for trying to seek safety for your people? For trying to find a safe space? Get real, Nick. None of that was your fault. It was just unlucky."

And that was the truth of it, and he couldn't predict that Troy'd be there for any other reason than to help. He still had faith in people, and Troy supposed, in theory, he'd killed that last shred of Nick's belief.

Nick shrugged, exhaling the smoke.

"There's always wondering going on in your mind about what you coulda done differently. You can run from it, shut it down, put it on the shelf in your mind and lock it someplace, but at some moment, it gets out, seeps through the cracks in your mental barriers and starts gnawing at your brain.

"Bad luck's not all of it. It never is."

"Yeah, if it's not just bad luck, what else it is? Don't tell me you believe its karma or my coming upon your people as fate's way of kicking you in the balls for your past drug habits. It's bullshit. You couldn't have foreseen that shit coming and no one could expect you to. However, if you did, what other choice was there? What could you have done differently that you didn't already do?"

Troy wasn't asking to make him feel guilty or anything, he was curious as to why Nick was holding onto something he couldn't control.

"I don't know, Troy," Nick said, throwing his hands up, then dropped the cigarette butt on the ground and stomped it out. "I coulda led them away, just somewhere, until there was a place. Or, actually, they wouldn't have left and woulda died there protecting their home from those bastards. But at least, it'd be something meaningful to them. Maybe that was the best way, and I made it worse, hardly saving anyone."

Even Luciana survived by luck. Or thanks to Jeremiah who let Nick take her in. Nick didn't want to bring it all up again. He wanted to leave it behind. It had to stay in the past.

He snatched the pack back from Alicia and lit another cigarette.

Alicia frowned, taking a drag of her cigarette as Nick snatched the pack back. He and Luciana had never really told the whole story of how and why they'd migrated to the border, but Alicia'd pieced together a few things here and there. None of it mattered much at this moment other than the fact that her brother was hurting. For both of the Clarks, guilt had the power to paralyze.

"You're not at fault for what happened in Baja," she said. "That was all Daniel and Mom. Maybe even Strand for pissing them all off in the first place.

"Luciana and her people… you couldn't have known what would happen. You gave those people a chance, Nick. It's not your fault a bunch of psychopaths were playing border patrol. You did the best you could in an impossible situation."

She paused, gaze on her feet as she took another drag.

"Just like me, right?" It's what he'd been trying to tell her about the cellar. "As for laying down roots? It's not gonna work. Not the way the world is now."

A small smile ticked at the corner of Troy's mouth at the casual mention of psychopaths at the border, and then dimmed in respect to the seriousness of what she was saying.

"You should listen to your sister. None of what happened to them or at those places were your fault. They're happenstance and a feature of this new world. But Alicia is wrong in saying that it isn't going to work, that it doesn't work, that laying down roots isn't possible. It is. I had that, I could have continued to have it and this place—this setup—is evidence of that. You just have to stop going into these places and scenarios with the expectation that it's going to fail. You have to believe in what you do and what you did."

Troy had. It was when he started questioning himself, started opening himself up to another's influence that it changed for him, and things panned out differently.

Troy wasn't going to lecture them, though, and wasn't expecting any more of an answer on it.

"So, what's the plan for tomorrow? Are we going back alone or taking old man Henry with us?"

"We never came anywhere with an expectation of failure," Nick stated, and took a drag. "It's not the expectation. It's not just luck. It's just how it is – nothing lasts."

He thought about it while taking another drag, holding it, and releasing a puff of smoke.

"We don't decide for Henry – he's his own man. And yeah, we going back to the cabin and then… I don't know. I'm not sure whether it's smart to stay there even for a night with those people at the lake."

Alicia hummed in agreement with her brother, finishing the cigarette and putting it out with the sole of her boot, careful to pick it up so she could dispose of it later.

"Would you like to stay?" she asked Troy, eyeing him curiously. It wasn't a Nick and Alicia versus Troy thing. She just genuinely wanted to know his thoughts on the matter.

Troy still didn't agree with Nick in regards to his view that nothing lasted. It wasn't true despite what Troy'd experienced. That was on Troy and a series of bad choices. He'd save the push for another day.

Nick wasn't ready, and, if Troy was honest, neither was he.

"I think that we should," he said. "If not indefinitely, than for a few days. You two still have a bit of healing to do and we have food and shelter. A checkmark in all the boxes. The trailer dudes might not even know we're here. We can keep it that way. We hide the jeep, lay low, the horse is already taken care of so he won't be a problem in giving us away and we stay around Jake's place until the two of you are ready to move on."

"Don't play that wounded card, we're not even close to the shape you're describing," Nick said, unable to hold back an amused smile. Troy was so eager to stay it was getting ridiculous. Nick understood his needs, but there were things they couldn't turn their backs to and ignore for as long as they liked. "Whether we hide the Jeep or not isn't gonna make us safer. Those people are not safe. Not even because of things others say about them – but because _WE_ don't know anything, we haven't seen anything with our own eyes, and simply judging by other people's opinions is not safe, either. They could be worse. Or they could be better. Either way, what we don't know can kill us. So I would vote for making the stay as short as possible. Taking risks that can be avoided is not a smart way."

"Considering they apparently shoot other people's livestock and try to take what doesn't belong to them by force, I'm not all that eager to stick around either," Alicia admitted, wrapping one arm around the post next to her for support. Besides, her little chat with Rosemary hadn't exactly made the possibility of staying more enticing.

"So, what's the endgame, Clarks?" Troy asked. "I get that you're both fucked up and have emotional healing to do but you can't go through this life solely with the purpose of existing day to day. As we've established, nowhere is safe and there are people like that trailer trash everywhere. You really think they're the only group that you have to worry about? That if you keep moving you aren't going to stumble upon another? And another? We're already hiding and by moving from place to place you're only making it worse and harder on yourselves. On all of us. You want to stay off the Proctors' radar until they actually think you're dead, we're dead, don't you think this'll be the best place to do that? That we stand less chance of running into his people off the grid?"

Nick threw the cigarette butt down and stepped on it.

"I know it's hard on you, I get it. It's not what you're used to at all. But you want me to do something I find impossible to do right now - I can't make plans. I can't think long term and make promises to you. I'm not ready for staying in one place. I haven't found that place yet. This ranch is not it. I can feel it in my gut it's not safe. I'm not gonna go against my gut again, not when Alicia is with me.

"I liked that trading post in Mexicali. I wanted to stay awhile. I really did. But since that also went to hell, I've lost that feeling. This place - although looking too good to be true - is not it. If you feel this is it for you, I'm not gonna drag you away."

Troy was right about one thing — nowhere was safe, and searching for that one special place that could be had been their downfall in the past. It was a nice idea, in theory, to settle down and create something of their own, to try and make life better. Worth living. But Alicia had also learned that as soon as you had something worthy, people would kill to take it from you.

"If these people are as bad as Henry and Rosemary say, then by staying here we're only setting ourselves up for another turf-war. Is it really worth it?"

Nick's reason for wanting to stay at the arena was something else entirely, although Troy doubted he was ready to admit it to himself. None of it had to do with safety. He'd said as much that night over and over and over again.

He hadn't gone into depth on the why, and despite Troy's raging headache the next day and accompanying nausea, it wasn't hard to figure out the cause. Madison smothered him, and Nick was desperate for a guilt-free way out that would keep her from hunting him down as she did in the past. He'd even convinced himself it wasn't for the drugs that were readily available and he'd quickly started working for, but for the connection he and Troy could prove to have on the inside for his mother. He'd even said as much to her face.

A bold-faced lie. Not his first but certainly his last.

"I'm not staying, if you're not staying," Troy stated unwaveringly. That wasn't even a tenth of what he was suggesting or have been trying to get at when he brought up the debate. "You're really asking me if water, a dependable food source, and safety is worth it, Alicia? I get that you two aren't eager to get into a fisticuffs – it is what it is. But is that the way you expect us to do it now? To avoid ever altercation that might come up and fight for nothing? Someone takes our stuff we just hand it over?"

Nick drew more air into his damaged lungs, feeling exhausted by having to swim around in all those dilemmas before he really felt there was something solid to talk about.

"Of course not," Alicia responded to Troy's question, about to elaborate when a female form appeared out of the darkness.

Nick had no chance to even try to humor him, either. A figure was approaching, a basket in her hand. She reminded him of Alicia's friend from the Broke Jaw – the Trimbol girl.

"Hey, guys," she smiled, approaching. "I see you're not sleeping yet. I brought you a little something here, our home-warming gift to appreciate the fact that you're good people, and we don't get enough of those."

She put the basket at the base of the stairs and revealed a thermos mug and a plate with three pie slices.

"Nothing brings good sleep like a nice snack before bed, huh," she remarked. "My dad's big on that saying."

She gave the plate to Troy and put the thermos mug on the stair between them and took the basket off the ground.

"I better go tuck myself in, so… see ya at breakfast?"

They thanked her; she beamed, her teeth glistening in the poor moonlight.

"I'm Katie, by the way."

She wiggled her fingers in a bye and walked away, humming something, her basket rocking at her thigh.

She was about Alicia's age, or so Alicia assumed from what could see of her, and she was bringing treats. Alicia wasn't sure if it was given merely out of the kindness of their hearts or if they just _really_ wanted them to stay in the area. Alicia supposed to them it wouldn't hurt to have allies against their ongoing feud with the lake-people.

"That's just… too nice," Nick said, smiling with irony.

"Yeah," Alicia murmured in the wake of her brother's statement, slipping off her perch on the railing to fetch the thermos mug Katie had left behind. She opened it and sniffed, warm steam rising to fan at her face.

"Mulled wine?" she guessed once she withdrew, allowing herself a small sip, careful not to burn her tongue. She offered the mug to the other two.

"It's one thing to fight in self-defense. To protect what we have. It's another to go after what we want despite knowing it's likely to get us or someone else hurt."

Similarities between Gretchen and Katie dropping off the basket of goodies like little red didn't go unobserved to Troy, and while she lingered, he found himself unable to meet her gaze.

The night he'd caught up to the Trimbols after they'd abandoned the ranch, it had never been his aim to kill them.

To kill _her_.

He'd liked her well enough and all he wanted was the answers from his friend that Troy believed he deserved. It had just happened. Troy'd tried to talk to Mike on his own (which came up while Mike tended to his father's horses as he usually did before bed) and before Troy knew it, things escalated into a frenzy of accusations, Troy'd pulled a trigger, and he'd choked up blood and was screaming bloody murder.

Vernon had come running. Then his wife and daughter. At the time, Troy hadn't thought twice, picking them off in a blur of hazy ferocity. He hadn't even realized what he'd done until the horses snapped him out of the red.

There had been no way to take the horses or anything else to the farm, so he'd left them, assuming they were too far out to be found and that eventually, they'd just become another sinful memory.

And they were.

Like Jake.

He dug into the slice of pie the girl had given him with his fingers and nodded his agreement with Nick, polishing it off in less than a minute, setting aside the plate on the stairs, washing it down with the mulled wine.

Troy swiped the back of his hand against his mouth to clear of it crumbs, offering the mug the back to whoever wanted to take the next sip. "Someone is always going to get hurt, Alicia. Nothing you do is going to change or minimalize that. There is a literal walking plague out there picking off the living. And they keep growing. And they will continue to grow until we've wiped each other out or they have. There is only one inevitable goal in this life anymore. One sure fact. You will die, and you will come back. How long that takes is up to you and how determined you are to fight for it. I'm not saying we have to go in guns blazing and on the offensive but should they happen upon us while we're staying at the cabin, we should at least be able to shoot back. Where do we draw the line on what is ours to protect and what we surrender?"

As Troy spoke, riding his favorite horse of tactics and art of war, Nick lost all possible appetite for any pie or wine. He lit another cigarette, feeling like his very soul was tired of all this, be it theory or practice.

"It's pretty simple for me – there's nothing of mine around here, so I got no lines to draw."

Alicia took the mug back from Troy when he offered it, seeing as Nick declined.

"The cabin is yours by law," Alicia told Troy, taking a long sip, enjoying the warmth the spiced beverage provided her. "But the law doesn't apply anymore. And Henry's been living there for, what, three years now? Four? The supplies Jake spoke of are long gone. Everything that remains is Henry's. That leaves us in much the same position we were in when we got here."

They'd gain a cabin, but also a feud that might turn lethal. And she wanted no part of it. Her gaze fell to the mug in her hand as silence briefly settled on their group. She rubbed her thumb across the smooth surface, murmuring.

"Disposing of the dead is inevitable. But the living… I'm tired of all the killing."

She took one last sip and pushed the mug into her brother's hand on her way to the door.

"I'm gonna head to bed. Are you sure neither of you don't want it?" The bed, that was. Nick would deny it even if he did. He always put her first, and she doubted she'd be able to make him stop that. But she didn't demand any special treatment from Troy, and he had as much of a right to that bed as she did.

"I'll take it," Troy supplied, turning to offer her a sickeningly well-mannered smile. They were the ones looking to move around from place to place without the creature comforts – why the hell not? Nick wouldn't take it although he was the one that most needed it. "I suggest you lay your sleeping bag between the two beds. Houses like these generally don't have a sealed floor and the cold seeps in like a bitch. You'll have a tough night otherwise."

He stood up and stretched lightly.

"I'm going to take one last walk around, fertilize a bush or something and then hit the hay myself."

He bent to pick up the plate, setting it aside on the railing out of the way so that Katie could collect it the following day, and slowly started his trek in search of a bit of privacy.

Nick set his jaw at Troy's stunt, but didn't say anything. Alicia hardly needed Nick to make her feel like a damsel if she tried to get rid of any hint of special treatment. He wasn't going to stick his opinions between those two stubborn showcases.

The feeling of wariness didn't leave him. It was some subtle chill under his skin, something that kept pulling at his nerves.

Something was off.

"This house is almost on the edge of their property," he murmured, looking ahead across the field. "So damn quiet. They're all spooked by the trailer people, but how come they don't patrol their land at night?"

He glanced back at Alicia, squinting wistfully.

"If they did, someone woulda passed here. It's weird."

Meeting Nick's gaze, Alicia shrugged. "Maybe they did pass and we just didn't see them in the dark? They could have come with Katie."

And Alicia hadn't seen her until she was only a few feet away.

"You worried?" she asked, hand on the door handle.

"You could say that," Nick responded. He felt safer when they slept in the car, and here it was just strangely vulnerable. He felt like a sitting duck but couldn't explain it. And that was borderline paranoid. Alicia didn't have to worry about things he couldn't prove. "Go sleep. And take the damn bed."

Alicia squinted at her brother, unsure whether it was wise to leave him alone with all his worries. But as he encouraged her to do just that, she realized how tired she was. Today hadn't been nearly as exhausting as the day before, but she still longed for a good night's sleep.

"Make me," she said grinning, a direct quotation from their childhood fights when he would shout at her to go away whenever she decided to hang out with him and his older friends. She opened the door and headed inside, careful not to wake a sleeping Henry as she claimed one of the sleeping bags and, per Troy's advice, settled down on the floor between the two beds. She fell asleep shortly after.

* * *

Troy'd made use of the open air facilities and then walked along the edge of the fencing, listening for the dead and humbly enjoying the sounds of the animals nearby.

Nature's music.

He could also do with a bit of _System of a Down_ or _Breaking Benjamin_.

He slowly made his way back.

"You should get some sleep," he said as he approached Nick, observing that Nick didn't appear to be ready to move and join his sister who was already gone.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be in fine."

Nick shifted on the stair to let him pass, and lit another cigarette. He wished they were back at El Bazaar. Even a crazy night there was peaceful compared to this battleground. Strife was buzzing in the ground beneath his feet, like some weird effect of drugs he hadn't taken.

He turned to Troy before Otto walked inside: "Have you seen anyone out there? Ranchers on a watch shift?"

Troy nodded and intended to leave Nick to his peace when his voice and query made him stop, eyes immediately going to the surroundings all shadowed in black.

There wasn't a light on in the cabin Rosemary had entertained them in, either. It seemed as if everyone had turned in. It was just them – the new, younger lot – that were still up.

"No," he answered, strolling back toward the railing where the plate still sat, still eyeing the scenery and seeing nothing suspect. "Why? Your sixth sense buzzing?"

"You tell me: have you ever let everyone on the ranch go to bed while Walker was out there?"

"Hell, no. The militia would be patrolling the fencing all night and all day in shifts. But that's Broke Jaw. These people are different. Pacifists. I don't even recall seeing any class one weapons in Rosemary's house. Only Henry had an open and displayed rifle."

"For people aware of the trailers group being bad news and ready to steal their cows, it's a bit too pacifistic."

"This coming from part two of the 'we don't want to hurt' anyone brigade? Shouldn't you be ecstatic instead of suspicious?" Troy asked, raising a brow, letting the sarcasm drift between them before folding his arms and setting them on the railing. "You're trying to hint at something, Nick. Tell me. You think these people are wolves in sheep's clothing or that maybe something happened to them?"

"I think there should be at least two people keeping watch during the night," Nick reasoned. "And we haven't seen them do it. Doesn't mean they're not there, but I just find it strange. And I'm not hinting on anything, I just wouldn't like to be killed in my sleep if some siege starts while we're here by accident. Just think about it: the trailer people don't leave for a reason. And if they intend to stay, that means they either have a plan or are cooking one. And it's not a friendly neighbors scheme."

He shrugged, taking a drag.

"Or I'm just paranoid and miss a shot of tequila to put me to sleep. You go in, I'll be there in five."

"There's a voice in your head for a reason, you should make a point of listening to it more often," Troy stated, weariness pulling in like an old friend to take over and cloud his thinking.

He'd have offered to take a look around the ranch and make sure that everything was okay so that Nick'd be able to sleep soundly tonight but Troy just didn't have the energy. As if it had been zapped from him all at once just at the thought. He'd felt similar the night before.

Although hesitant to leave Nick outside when he was feeling mistrustful, Troy accepted that he'd be in in five minutes, and started inside, surprised to see that Alicia had once again taken his advice, and eased himself onto the open mattress face first, falling asleep almost instantly.


	11. Chapter 11

**THE CHOSEN ONES — PART 1**

Nick frowned, mulling it over as Troy turned and went inside yawning. It was weird, too, that Otto would listen and yet not be willing to scope out the territory to make sure. Although it was clear none of them got enough rest, and they just kept going on fumes. Especially Troy. Alicia with her rodeo session needed all the sleep she could get, as well. Nick needed it, but couldn't make himself go inside.

He finished his smoke, considered taking a stroll like Troy did. The moon was behind the clouds, but Nick could see across the field. The forest started about two-three dozen yards behind the guesthouse. He went behind it to take a piss.

He was about to follow his companions' examples and go hit the sack when he heard something. Some faint sounds from the distance. Like shuffling. Footsteps.

Nick pressed his back to the cabin's wall, listening. If it were the infected – if by some crazy reason his paranoia was on point and there was no guard to prevent any from seeping through – they would sell themselves out with other sounds, with that certain way their footfalls shuffle. And he had no knife.

He squatted, trying to feel the ground around him for any weapon, a stick or a rock, but there was nothing. For a long moment of desperate searching, there was nothing. Then his fingers came across a stick. Not much, but better than nothing.

And then, Nick heard voices. Hushed, but he could tell there were a few. He held his breath, listening, his heart pumping in his ears.

"… not enough time. Maybe we should wait a bit more."

"No, it should be fine by now, unless they're superheroes."

"It was a small mug, I couldn't get more."

"It's okay. You wanna go wait out there?"

"No. I'll just… just hurry."

"Shut up, you both."

They stopped. Three of them. And that stupid stick wasn't going to do anything. One went up the porch steps, gingerly opened the door. Stepped inside. The other one followed, but was met with the first one at the door.

"The fourth is missing," a female voice hissed. "Where the fuck is he?"

"Hell would I know? Katie!"

"What? They were all here, all went in, I swear! I swear! I saw!"

"Well, you saw wrong!"

"The hell it matters, just take the girl and go," a male one suggested. "Maybe he passed out in the bushes someplace while taking a piss."

"We can't leave him out there," Katie said. "They'll know! He'll tell them! Please, don—"

"It's on you, you were watching them."

"I did! I did!"

"Go get the girl," the female said. The footsteps went in the cabin, and out, after a bit.

"Sleeping like a baby," the male murmured, making Nick's innards crawl.

"Let's go."

Nick heard someone – probably Katie – take the plate off the porch. The footfalls shuffled away.

He crept to the end of the cabin to peek after them. Three silhouettes, one of them carrying Alicia following another one. Katie walked in the tail, a bit away. Fighting all his instincts, Nick waited for them to get further, then dashed for the forest. It was painful to breathe and run, but he didn't care. As soon as he reached the cover of the first trees starting right after a makeshift fence, he jogged along it toward the main house where the three went.

With short series of cross-runs from house to house, he finally saw how only two were walking away, and Katie was about to go indoors. Nick caught her off-guard and dragged her behind the house, his palm over her mouth to stop her from screaming. When she saw him as the moon left the clouds, he could rather feel her pale. She looked like a scared ghost.

"Who are they and where are they taking her?" he demanded. "What is going on? I don't wanna hurt you, but I will. Unless you speak. So tell me."

"I… I— Oh god, I told them it was too early."

"What are you talking about?" Nick shook her a little. She started to sob.

"They… trailers. They take her there."

"What for?"

"I… I dunno…"

"Bullshit!"

"It's a… a ritual… they need her for… the spirits, they will guide her…"

"What the hell does this all mean?"

She started to cry. She was useless.

"What did you do?"

"I put… some pills… in the wine… my mom, she needs pills to sleep. I took some."

"Why you did it?"

"I had to," she wept, her shoulders shaking in my grip. "I had… to…"

"Listen to me," Nick shook her once, the back of her head hit the wall. He felt no pity, to his surprise. She was just a scared kid, but he still had to fight back his anger. "I need our weapons. Where you keep them?"

She wept harder. "They… gone…"

"What?"

"They… took … them…"

He sucked in a painful breath, thinking, then took his hands off her.

"Your parents know?"

Her crying stopped, her eyes wide and bulging. "Please, don't tell anyone! You can't tell anyone! Or spirits would take them! Please! Please don't tell anyone, please—"

"Just go in and pray I get my sister back," Nick hissed. "Or I'll come back for you, and they'll know what you're doing. You alone in this?"

"I… I…" she wept. Nick was losing time.

"Will they come back? Katie, will they come back?"

She shook her head, weeping like her mother died. "Just… one… they… take… just…"

He debated going back for Troy, but he was out. She put those pills into the wine, and he drank it. Nick wouldn't wake him. He had to believe her, he had to believe they only took Alicia.

He followed their trail out of the ranch. He almost caught up to them, but they didn't bother looking back. Nick was careful, circling around the back of the trailers, keeping to the trees. Their dog barked, but they shut it up. Nick noted the trailer where they put Alicia. They both walked out after a bit and went into another, bigger trailer. The lights were on in it, as well as in a few others. No one was outside, however, on from his side. Nick imagined some might be carrying their watch around the area, but he had a clear passage, and he used it.

The trailer was open. It alarmed Nick in the back of his mind, but he needed to get to Alicia before they returned. She was on the floor, her hands bound behind her back. She was still out cold. He couldn't wake her.

When he was about to haul her up to carry out, the trailer opened, and he heard a trigger click.

"Well, well, well, here's the fourth," the familiar male voice said. "You were right."

"I'm just a translator, Benny," the woman said, Nick saw her smile as the light went on. "The spirits told me he'd come. We have everything in place. Just like they told us."

* * *

A whole forever went by, dropping like water from a poorly screwed tap, second after second. Nick's body was going numb, he shifted, and then it all continued. Hours. Eternal hours. Alicia kept sleeping, and he kept beating himself up.

 _How could we have been so stupid? How could we have stayed? Why wouldn't I insist on following my gut?_

It was safer to stay, the ranchers supposed. But gee, how fucking stupid was that? Nick was sure now that all three of them would have been safer if they left.

That felt like some horrible karma, like some bad doom that kept trying to catch up with them. Or maybe with Nick. Maybe he had to die at that dam, and now, like in that silly pre-apocalypse movie, death was chasing to catch up. Through some impossible situations he couldn't foresee.

* * *

Consciousness started to seep back in, bringing with it a throbbing headache that made Alicia feel like she was being hit repeatedly with a not-so-gentle hammer. She groaned the first time she tried to move, feeling that her right shoulder had gone numb from continued pressure against a hard surface, and opened her eyes. She was horizontal on the floor looking up at a wall decorated with framed hangings of various flowers done by needlepoint. It looked like the kind elderly ladies would proudly display in their home.

A little bit of light seeped in through the cracks in the curtains, creating a semi-dark atmosphere Alicia and her headache could have appreciated were it not for the fact that she was no longer at the place where she had gone to sleep.

She turned her head eventually, and her gaze landed on Nick. He was sat on the floor, leaning back against the wall opposite her, his arms behind him. He looked miserable and scared.

"Nick?" she murmured, only now registering how dry her mouth was and the fact that she couldn't move her arms. They'd been gathered and tied at the small of her back.

Panic then. Rising fear that continued to elevate, her heart pounding, head spinning as she forced herself to sit up with great effort, looking around like a trapped animal.

It was a trailer or mobile home of some kind. She could see that now. Voices sounded from outside and people-shaped shadows fell on the windows every now and then.

"Are they in there?"

"Yep."

"Can we look?"

"No. Orders from Mother Elise. You'll see them this afternoon when everything is ready."

Silence. Retreating footsteps.

Alicia didn't understand.

Her gaze shot back to Nick. She kept her voice to a whisper so to not alert anyone outside. "Nick? Are you hurt?"

She looked confused, disoriented, and finally, scared. Panicking. As soon as she felt her wrists numb and tied behind her back.

There was, however, an eerie calm inside Nick. As if a part of him started to resign itself to inevitable end that would follow. They didn't take them here to be their guests of honor. By bits and pieces he had caught from outside, it was a bunch of crazies getting high on sacrifices or rituals. What end of the world would it be if it didn't bring out all the crazy it harbored hidden before?

Nick shook his head slowly. "No, but the night is young. The wine was drugged. The girl who brought it, Katie, 's in cahoots with them. Has been awhile, as far as I can judge."

"The lake-people?" Alicia squinted at her brother through the darkness. And she'd been drugged? That explained the headache and why she felt roughly the same as she had after Melissa Stevens' seventeenth birthday party when Alicia'd had one too many shots of tequila.

She tested her restraints, trying to pull her wrists apart, but they wouldn't budge. Cable ties? She made an effort to get to her feet, because surely there had to be something in this trailer they could use to free themselves, but her head spun and her pitiful attempts were thwarted. Instead, she had to settle for shuffling closer to Nick.

"What do they want?" she whispered. "And where's Troy?"

"No one reported to me about what they want," he said. "But it seems to be some kind of sect, with rituals and sacrifices. They didn't mean to take all of us, just you. I wasn't sleeping, so I followed, and so they got two. I assume Troy will be told that we left him. They got some working routine here with the guests of the ranch. If only we didn't stay…"

* * *

Despite his exhaustion, Troy'd slept restlessly, dreaming about what if's and how he might have been able to prevent Jake from being munched on by his, Troy's, vengeance if only Troy could control himself. Only it was never a walker that was cutting into him with blunt teeth – it was Troy himself. As he tucked into Jake's arm, he was convinced he could taste the disappointment and sorrow in the thickness of his blood, his final words of condemnation clear and brittle, hollowing out until they faded and Troy was left with sunlight and silence.

It took him a moment to comprehend that he was awake and, more importantly, alone.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, blinking furiously to push aside the heaviness of last night's exhaustion and what he assumed was his lack of decent sleep, and steadily sat up.

Henry wasn't on the bed next to him, Alicia's sleeping bag was unzipped and left where she'd put it the night before in a messy heap and Nick's hadn't moved from its spot in the corner.

Hadn't he slept at all last night?

Troy sat up, swung his legs off the bed and pressed two fingers to the each of his temples to alleviate the mild headache he had. He needed something to drink.

He got up, still dressed in his clothes, and stumbled to the door expecting to see Nick, perhaps, on the stair sharing a cigarette with his sister.

Troy knew he wasn't or couldn't be dreaming, because there were people walking to and fro between the houses, either in the middle or starting their daily chores. Some smiled his way. Troy inhaled slowly in hopes the fresh air would help clear his head, and slowly started down the porch steps, intending to head for the main house, expecting that his friends might be having breakfast.

And they were.

But Alicia and Nick weren't among them.

"Morning, Troy," Rosemary greeted, smiling that one hundred kilowatt smile that looked and felt genuine. "Care for some eggs? Mushrooms? Katie just cut up some melon."

Henry had a mouthful and was smiling, too. George, Troy assumed, had already eaten and was off taking care of his leadership duties and making sure that the ranch was locked up nice and tight.

"I wouldn't mind breakfast but uh… I don't suppose you've seen Nick and Alicia?"

Rosemary's smile dimmed and her eyes momentarily darted to Henry as if to gauge his reaction. "Oh."

 _Oh?_

"They left," Henry supplied.

For a second Troy wasn't sure he'd heard them correctly.

"Are you okay, Troy?" Rosemary asked, brows furrowed with apprehension, her hands darting to her apron to wipe them clean as she strolled toward Troy. He took an immediate step back.

"When did they leave?"

"Katie said she saw them go early this morning."

Troy averted his gaze to the Gretchen-lookalike and met her eyes in a way he couldn't the day before, observing that she looked skittish, her features slightly paler and less welcome than they were earlier.

 _She's feeling sorry for me?_

"Did they say anything?" he asked, speaking directly to the girl.

Rosemary intervened like a mother hen, shielding her friend's daughter from his probing gaze, sensing the change in atmosphere and like she needed to do her best to soothe the situation.

"They thanked us for the overnight, made their apologies and left."

Why would they do that, and more importantly, why would they do that without Troy? Were they that worried about his views on their discussion about the turf-wars, or was it more reprehensible than that?

Nick had aired some doubts.

"I'm sorry," Rosemary said, apologizing for either their antics or the part she had to play in their disappearance, Troy couldn't tell and wasn't able to dissect her meaning. "You're welcome to stay with us, Troy. Henry says he doesn't know you very well but that if you're anything like your brother that you'd be a credit to the team."

He had absolutely nothing to say to that, and instead took in the scene before him with a new light.

Henry continued to eat, meeting Troy's eye every now and then, and Rosemary had turned to grab a plate and was scooping a generous amount of the stuff she'd spoken of before setting them down on the table.

"Come. Sit. Eat," she said, pulling an open chair away from the table.

She was smiling again, that welcome motherly type that might have hooked Troy in the past and weakened his knees, but this time it made him feel alien and moderately stupid. He'd fallen for a smile just like that a couple of months ago. It made you feel like you belonged, like you were loved or at least cared for.

He wanted to cut it off her face.

Only he wouldn't.

Not yet, and not until he'd found out where they'd kept his friends or what they did to them.

Troy returned the smile and moved to sit at the table at her polite request, reaching for the knife and fork she'd offered, and began to dig in, listening and replying as needed as she asked what he used to do on his farm and what he might like to do here if he decided to stay.

* * *

Sect? Rituals? Sacrifice? What the fuck?

Alicia blinked at him, assuming for a moment she'd heard him wrong. She could smack him for having followed and gotten himself into this mess as well, but that would make her a hypocrite. She would have done the same in his stead.

"Did you get a good look at them? Know how many there are?"

"At least a dozen," Nick assumed. "There's no way of knowing for sure. I'm sorry, Lisha. I should have insisted on leaving, we'd be safe then."

He finally found the tail of the zip-tie holding his wrists with his fingers. He pulled at it, tightening the restraints, until there was no space and it hurt. He drew in a slow deeper breath, close to praying it would work, then began to strain his wrists to break it.

By the feel of it, it wasn't going to be easy, if possible at all.

"Don't," Alicia said sternly, finally getting her back against the wall, using it to help her get to her feet. "This is not on you. Nor me. Nor Troy. This is all on them."

A vague gesture in the direction of the door was made. She was surprised to find herself more angry than scared at the moment, but she welcomed it.

Her legs didn't seem to have gotten the memo, however, and they wobbled slightly as she walked the tiny room, searching for something, anything, that could be used as a weapon.

"There's nothing here, you can sit back down," Nick informed, wincing at his wrists screaming at his every attempt to break the zip-tie. "They wouldn't have left us here together if they thought we had a chance."

* * *

"How long had the three of you been travelling together?" Rosemary asked Troy once they'd finished off breakfast and it was just the two of them. Katie had excused herself some time ago, Henry had gone to relieve himself, and George had stopped in just long enough to comment on the coffee, to try and sell Troy the same shit she had about staying and to finish what he was doing with the cattle. One of their cows was readying to give birth and they feared because of her fluctuating weight that it would be a difficult one.

"A couple of months."

She nodded gently, appearing thoughtful.

"This life has changed our standard outlooks, our responsibilities and how we deal with people on a social level. You and your friends didn't talk about going your separate ways?"

"Not directly. I guess they felt we had irreconcilable opinions," he stated.

No part of Troy believed that. He refused. He searched her face for some chink in that understanding armor and found it incredible hard. She was good. A superb actress. If he were in any other position, he'd be a fan.

But two could play that game.

And play he would. Hard.

"Then in that they're smart and doing what's best for them. Being with people who aren't likeminded in how to deal with this new world is a sure way of getting yourself killed or hurt. What is it you want, Troy?"

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table with a shrug.

"I get it, it isn't an easy question," she murmured, smiling with something that could only be described as sympathy. It made him want to reach over and wrap his hands around her throat. "In the meantime, while you figure it out, the invitation is open and you're welcome to make yourself at home."

She got up from the table, pushing her plate together with Henry's, and reached for Troy's. He warded off her attempt, withdrawing the plate out of her reach childishly, smiling as he did to let her know he was teasing.

"The least I can do is the dishes."

"Nonsense," Rosemary chimed, waving off his courtesy as she bid to make a grab for the plate again. He repeated his previous act by keeping it just out of reach and smiled wider.

"I insist."

Rosemary gave him a light-hearted reproachful look, and, after a moment's hesitation, slid the plates across the table. He collected them together and headed for the basin he'd seen Katie use to clean the pans. She'd filled it with fresh water. He dumped the cutlery into it, scrubbed the plates as needed with a steel brush resting on a side plate with dish soap, and dried them with a dishtowel, putting them down on a clean pile stacked close to the stove. When Rosemary busied herself with putting away the spices and wiping down the counter to free it of crumbs and make room for the next step to her morning, he swiped one of the blunt butter knives she'd given him to use and slipped it into his pocket.

"You know anything about baking bread, Troy?"

"That was never really my specialty."

"Did you know that you could do it with the right ingredients and no more than sunlight?"

He had and had witnessed as much at Broke Jaw.

"Yes, ma'am."

"But you've never made it?"

He folded his arms across his chest and shook his head.

"It's a handy skill to know and will keep your stomach full if you decide to leave us and take off alone. Come on, I'll show you how to do it. It literally only takes fifteen or ten minutes to throw together."

The act was getting worse – domestically so – and yet part of Troy knew that, if he attacked her, forced her to tell him that what happened to Nick, or accused any of them of harming the two, it would change his position in the group and call into question his freedom.

He had to play it smart—by playing it dumb—and bid his time.

At least until he knew where to start looking for them and had checked the grounds to his satisfaction.

"Grab that mixing bowl," she said, gesturing to a bright neon green plastic dish on the counter.

Troy rolled up his sleeves and did as she requested, easily following her instructions, smiling when she reprimanded him for doing something she viewed as clumsy.

* * *

"I don't wanna sit down," Alicia said. Of course, Nick had been right in his assumption of the situation – there was nothing here that could be used to their benefit. The picture frames didn't even have real glass in them. But she had to try. Had to do _something_.

When the door to the trailer suddenly opened, Alicia stepped back, instinctively shielding Nick from view to the best of her ability as well as putting distance between herself and whoever was entering. It was two women, one of them in her thirties, the other closer to Alicia's age.

"I see we're all awake," the older of the two remarked, smiling and brandishing a gun.

Alicia didn't reply, keeping her eyes trained on that gun, gauging her chances to knock it from her grasp. They weren't good. And even if she could have managed, her restraints would have made the move useless.

"Go on," the woman said, now speaking to her accomplice, encouraging her to step forward. The younger girl seemed tentative, uncertain, as she approached Alicia. She was carrying a strip of fabric, and when she raised it as if to cover Alicia's eyes, Alicia flinched away, moving until her back hit the wall beside Nick.

"Don't make this difficult," the older woman said, raising her gun and pointing it directly at Alicia's leg. "Co-operate or I'll make it hurt. And if that's not incentive enough," she shifted the angle of her weapon, aiming for Nick now, "I'll put a bullet in your boyfriend's head."

Alicia's blood ran cold at that threat. She shot a frightened look at Nick before taking a step forward, clenching her jaw and keeping as still as possible as she allowed the girl to blindfold her and take away her sight.

"It's okay," the younger one whispered as she tied the knot, and she sounded so sincere Alicia almost believed her. Almost.

"You'll see each other again soon."

Even though his pulse accelerated at the idea of letting them take her away again to who knows what, and the younger girl's 'You'll see each other again soon' was finished with 'on the other side' in his head, Nick didn't move as they blindfolded Alicia. What for, he had no clue. Both Clarks knew where they were.

"Can anyone finally explain what the hell is going on here?" Nick asked as the girl jerked his sister's arm to follow her.

The older one smiled condescendingly, lowering her gun. "It's not our place to explain," she said. "The spirits will guide you. Or they won't."

With that, they left.

Nick sighed, shifted as his legs were going numb, and began torturing his wrists again, pulling at the zip-tie, willing it to snap. He caught the tail again, tightened it some more, although there was barely any millimeters left to do that, and tried again. Breathed, and tried again. That'd go better had his hands been in front of him.

* * *

They led Alicia out of the trailer, careful to make sure she didn't lose her balance on the narrows stairs, and she heard the door slam shut behind them. Movement too, as if someone had just blocked the entrance from outside. Maybe guarding it?

The women's grasps on her arms were gentle but firm as they walked her across the grounds. She could hear voices in the distance, crackling of a fire nearby, and the crunch of twigs and dead leaves beneath the soles of her boots. Other than that nothing that hinted at why they had taken them, and where they were bringing her now.

"Why am I blindfolded?" she asked, half-expecting neither of them to answer. Again, it was the oldest who spoke.

"No peeking before it's time."

Alicia had no idea what to make of that.

It wasn't long before she found herself in another trailer. The fabric was pulled off her head, and the ties around her wrists cut. She knew better than to expect this to be some sort of kindness on their part and wasn't proven wrong when the lady with the gun made use of her weapon once more, pointing it at her.

"Strip," she said simply, gesturing to Alicia's jeans and tank top.

Alicia glared daggers at her, incredulous. "I'm not doing shit."

She stepped close and put the barrel to Alicia's shoulder, staring her down.

"You can either take your clothes off, or I can cut you out of them as you bleed to death on the floor. Your choice."

Alicia caved, reluctantly so, but she did. They were probably going to kill her, but she didn't have to tempt them into pulling the trigger quicker than necessary. Because if there was anything she'd learned about this new world, it was that everything could change in a few seconds. She and Nick would make it through this. They had to.

Alicia leaned down to undo the laces on her boots, freeing herself of them and her socks. The jeans and top followed suit, all landing in a heap on the floor. She didn't make any attempts at removing her underwear and the woman seemed satisfied with her efforts for now, so Alicia left it.

The younger girl emerged from the tiny bathroom carrying towels and cloths as well as a washbasin with warm water and soap. Alicia stared at them both, highly confused. They were going to wash her?

Turned out, yes. The two women scrubbed her vigorously from the top of her forehead to the soles of her feet, and the dreaded moment where she was no longer allowed her underwear finally came. All her questions went unanswered. So did her insults. It seemed to have no effect on the two, whatsoever. They were perfectly content in their own little world, a stark contrast from both of their earlier dispositions.

"What the fuck is wrong with you people?!" Alicia cried eventually, frustrated and frightened and confused. The younger woman looked up at her then, smiling.

"All will be made clear in time. You have been chosen by the spirits. It is a great honor."

* * *

After Rosemary and Troy had thrown the bread mix together, she'd shooed him out the front door and told him to take a look around the rest of the ranch to see if he liked it.

That had been his intention to begin with but her earnest want for him to do so and her added need for his opinion if he were to see anything out of place surprised him.

Why, if she were guilty, would she be letting him run around without a leash?

Maybe she wasn't involved and he was grasping at straws? Maybe Nick had just up and left in the middle of the night worried that Troy was going to go a-wall and drag his beloved sister into a battle over four walls and some fish, and decided that getting as far away from Troy was his best bet to keeping her safe.

Especially after last night's semi-political discussion.

No, he wouldn't do that, and if he did… he'd tell Troy to his face. He wasn't a coward. If anything, so far, he'd been one of the most honest people Troy'd ever known – knew.

He scrubbed a hand to smooth away the headache that had returned with a vengeance. Not that it had ever left.

"You okay there, Troy?"

He looked up, met Henry's eyes and nodded.

"You sure?"

"Could be better," Troy conceded, gifting him a thin smile. "Don't suppose you know where I'll find Katie?"

"You're worried about your friends?"

Troy offered up no explanation, and he didn't press for one.

"If she's not with Rosemary in the kitchen, she might be at the pantry, the vegetable patch or at home."

"Which house does she stay in?" Troy asked.

He gestured to a house not far off from where they'd stayed the night before. Troy thanked him and prepared to take a walk around, pausing when Henry briefly called to stop him.

"I'm going to be heading back to the cabin, if that's alright?"

Troy started at him dumbly, gobsmacked that he needed Troy's permission to do so.

"I brought you here. I didn't want you thinking I was just going to abandon you. Besides, now that it's just you, you'll be wanting to stay at the cabin, right? Or have you taken Rosemary up on her offer?"

Neither.

"I think I'll stay here for a while."

Henry smiled knowingly, glancing around as if to admire the ranch's glory. "If you ever feel like a visit, the door's tentatively open and I could use the company."

They shared a last smile and then went their separate ways.


	12. Chapter 12

**THE CHOSEN ONES — PART 2**

When there was nothing else left in and around Nick but the stinging fire-fest in his wrists, the zip tie snapped. He froze, not believing it at first, then slowly brought his hands before him, eyeing the bruised, bleeding skin. Nick sucked in a shaky breath and scrambled to his feet. The morning sun was blazing through the dusty window, probably reflecting from it in a blinding glare, which helped as Nick peeked cautiously through it, trying to not disturb the dirty curtains.

There seemed to be one guard outside, a gun hanging on the belt at the hip that Nick could see. He had a western-like hat on, and it gave Nick a faint idea.

He squeezed the broken zip tie in his hand, put his wrists together behind him and settled on the floor. He kicked the wall two times as hard as he could, then made loud choking noises.

The door opened and let in the guard.

"The fuck," he cursed, observing the boy shaking on the floor. "What the fuck! Fuck! Hey! The fuck is wrong with you?"

The guard hesitated – debating running to get someone else or coming closer for inspection – and Nick's fragile plan hung by the thread. Nick stilled, wheezing quietly. The sound was almost genuine, since his bruised ribs didn't let him forget about them for a second.

The guard came up gingerly, crouched, his hand came to Nick's shoulder. And then Nick's struck up grabbing the guard's neck and yanking him down. The guard tumbled next to Nick; Nick had his head in the lock between his knees, squeezing with all the adrenaline-powered might he had. The guard could barely wheeze or realize what happened when Nick brought an elbow down hard on his temple, then again. Nick yanked the knife from the sheath on his other hip and added a hit of the handle. The skin split, blood oozed out. The guard was out, all right.

Reluctantly, Nick loosened his legs and pushed the guard away, trying to catch his breath. His heart was pounding in his throat, his head swimming. Now he felt the lack of sleep weighing like a ton over his shoulders.

It took him another seven minutes to put on the guard's clothes. He was, thankfully, not bearded, though a bit taller than Nick, but Nick believed in the lack of observation in people when they saw a familiar shape. If those people were like CIA agents, Nick was screwed. But that was yesterday's news, anyway.

He put on the hat, took a deeper breath before the door, then stepped out. A couple of young women were nearby, talking while washing clothes in two metal basins. They barely looked back at him.

"Watch the door for a sec, need a piss," Nick called in a slightly lower voice, waving a hand toward the back of the trailers.

They giggled.

"Hurry back," one of them called. "Or you're in trouble."

Keeping his face concealed by the hat the best he could, Nick made another dismissive gesture and went behind the trailer, creeping along them. Nick had no idea where they could have led her, but then there was a cry.

"What the hell is wrong with you, people?!"

Her voice. Nick forgot to breathe and hurried to where he thought it came from. It was stupidly lucky that no one lingered their eyes on him to stop his progress. When he came to the trailer he thought was the one, he waited a moment to make sure. There was a female voice saying something about the spirits again. Nick could barely make out the phrase, but there was no way it could be told to someone other than Alicia.

He pulled the gun and went in quickly, snapping the door closed behind him and propping it with his back.

There were the two women that took Alicia away. They were startled, the younger one gasped at the sight of the gun aiming between them, the older one seemed annoyed more than scared, but she tried to step away from Nick, nevertheless.

Alicia stood naked in a bathtub. In the back of his mind, Nick felt sorry he barged in, but the urgent survivalist part of him didn't care.

When the door opened, Alicia instinctively covered herself with her arms, indignant and furious, glaring at the man who rushed inside until she recognized his true identity. Nick.

"Get dressed," he said, snapping her out of her own stupor, and pulled the hat off, letting it drop on the floor.

She didn't hesitate. She stepped away from the women and grabbed her clothing off the floor, turning her back on them all as she pulled her jeans and top back on. Alicia didn't bother with socks this time and simply shoved her feet into her boots, lacing them up as quickly and tightly as she was able, assuming they were going to have to run. How Nick had managed to get one over on them she didn't know. But God, how she loved him in that moment.

The older woman sneered like a witch. "You're digging yourselves a deeper grave," she hissed, eyeing Alicia and Nick. "You're going to pay dearly. Where is Sam?"

Nick shrugged. "Better shut up or I'll send you to him."

"Give me your gun," Alicia said to the older woman, eyeing the weapon she had tucked away in her belt. The woman looked up to meet the girl's gaze, defiant.

"No."

Alicia's hand reached out and slapped her so quickly and so hard the imprint of her fingers still lingered on her cheek as she withdrew. Alicia wasn't even sure she had meant to do that. But a part of her hated this woman, as well as her accomplice. And she didn't feel sorry.

The woman gasped and groaned, doubling over before slowly and reluctantly handing Alicia her gun.

* * *

Katie wasn't at home, wasn't helping with the birthing of the calf and wasn't tending to the vegetable patch, and for a second, Troy convinced himself she'd disappeared off the face of the earth.

He found her in the pantry, her back to the door, whispering with another friend in the corner. A boy about the same age as her.

Her boyfriend?

From where Troy stood, it didn't look as if they were groping one another or attempting a clumsy quickie.

The boy's eyes connected with Troy's over her shoulder, widening as if trapped and then relaxed. Katie had whirled around, mouth open, her deer-caught-in-headlights expression more prominent than ever. They were both sweating.

"Rosemary sent me to get some ingredients for bread."

Neither relaxed, but after a nudge from the boy Katie finally moved. "Is—is she out of flour? I thought I-I filled it yesterday."

When she'd delivered the pie and whatever that drink was last night, she hadn't been stuttering as she was now, in fact, she'd been cheerful, friendly and oddly self-assured.

Troy shrugged noncommittally. "I just do as I'm told. I also needed the excuse to talk to you."

She stopped what she was doing and straightened up, her eyes instantly seeking her companion for help. "T—to m-me?"

"T-t-t…yeah," Troy mocked, finding his patience quickly wearing thin. He'd been playing the straight-laced believe it game for over an hour now and he was sick of it. This girl was cracking, he only needed to know why.

"Hey," the boy retorted with just the right amount of indignation to be annoying, puffing out his chest and moving to shield Katie as Rosemary had done before.

"You said you spoke to my friends when they left," Troy stated, disregarding his bravado. "What did they say?"

"I—I didn't s-s-speak to t-them directly."

If she were wearing a lie detector the needle would be going crazy.

"You didn't? Who did?" Again, her eyes drifted to her companion, silently pleading for some kind of assistance. Troy followed her gaze. "You?"

The boy looked startled with the line of questioning, deflating slightly before forcing himself to remain cool. Troy had seen this response in many people during his experiments.

"No, none of us did, alright? They just left," he snapped, jutting out his lower lip, grabbing Katie's wrist, making to drag her for the exit behind Troy. Rosemary and Henry had been so convincing in their innocence and naivety, that when these two numbskulls confirmed his suspicion it was borderline euphoric. They'd taken no more than two steps and were trying to get past him when his fist connected with the boy's face, his head cracking off the shelving like a bouncy ball, sending him to the floor of the pantry unconscious.

Not what Troy'd intended, but also not a problem.

Katie was wide-eyed and she'd screamed for all of two seconds before snapping her mouth shut.

Troy wondered why.

Actually, he didn't have to – he knew.

She was scared he'd do the same thing to her to shut her up and that the people wouldn't make it in time to save her. If they even heard her. The miracle of birth was happening and everyone was tied up.

Well, most.

"Where are my friends?" Troy repeated, satisfied that her boyfriend would be out for a while.

"I-I-I d-don't' k-know. T-they l-left."

"You're lying."

"I-I'm n-not." She was close to tears now.

"Why don't you just tell me the truth and save yourself?" he asked, keeping his eyes on her as he crouched over the boy and patted him down for weapons.

There was a knife in his boot and a twelve round handgun tucked into the holster on his hip. Troy removed both.

Katie had inched away, her back pressed against a stack of barrels. Troy slipped the gun into his pocket, twirled the knife once and swiftly drove it into the boy's right arm, using his free hand to cover his mouth and the inevitable scream as he violently came to. Either from the pain in his arm or from his head, no sooner his eyes had opened, no sooner they closed again. Katie was breathing hard, tears falling freely now, her knees drawn to her chest, unable to look Troy in the eye.

"That was a freebie to let you know I was done fucking around and playing nice. I want answers and I want truth. I suggest you start flapping those stuttering lips of yours."

"They'll c-come f-f-for m-me. Us."

"I doubt that, Gretchen. You didn't hear? Everyone's tending to Betsy."

* * *

Nick felt a jolt inside when Alicia slapped the woman. More so, as he watched his sister's face. There was not much choices left for the two of them behavior-wise, but it still hurt to see her like this, resorting to violence and rage beyond remorse for it. A direct reference to his own sins back at the other trailer. He could have killed that guy, Sam. He could have gone a blow less. But didn't choose to.

When Alicia stepped back from the woman, having claimed her gun, Nick swung his own at the woman's head. The younger one let out a strained squeal and pressed her palms over her mouth, watching her friend slump to the floor.

Nick swallowed the disgust at himself and went to her. Her eyes locked on his, wide, thoroughly terrified. He was the monster in her story. He was sorry to be, but he saw no better option. Her hands fell off her face; her mouth formed a huge O to scream when his gun knocked her out.

"We need to go for the woods, as fast as we can," he told Alicia, forcing himself to look at her. "You okay?"

It was strange watching her brother utilize violence. Even back in the day when he was desperate for drugs she'd rarely seen him resort to such measures. This new world had changed them all.

"I'm fine," she said, not meeting his eyes, instead checking the ammo of her gun. Getting into the forest was easier said than done. There were still people lingering outside and she suspected they'd take notice of the Clarks immediately if the two were to step out among them.

Alicia moved towards the window and peered outside from behind the curtain. "It's not clear yet."

"If we don't leave now, they're gonna come here," he said, replicating her ammo check. It was full. They didn't have to use it often, he guessed. "I don't know if that guy's alive, if he wakes up, if someone will wanna check why there's no guard outside anymore… We just gotta run NOW."

He looked out the window. There were more people than around his trailer. A few men, a couple of women in their twenties.

He hated it all.

"If they try to stop us, we'll have to shoot," he murmured, tried to swallow back the sickness in the back of his throat. "Shoot to kill."

Her mouth went dry again, but she nodded. The only other option was to surrender and die, and she didn't have that in her. "Let's go."

With the gun in one hand she slowly turned the handle on the door, and opened it. Silent. No one looked their way as they stepped outside. She barely dared to breathe, keeping close to Nick, observing their surroundings but keeping her head down.

They were almost out of the opening, steering behind the trailer, when one of the women called to them. "Hey, that's against the rules! You can't take her!"

"It's okay!" Nick called back, raising his hand momentarily, ushering Alicia with another one, hoping she would hurry.

"I'm gonna call Mother Elise!" the woman said.

"Go, go, go," Nick whispered, nudging Alicia forward. She trotted.

There were raised voices behind them, urging them to run. He could sense the air changing around the camping grounds; they were grabbing guns and hurrying to cut their way before they escaped.

Two men ran toward them, guns cocked, yelling warnings. One of them shot under their feet, but Nick only urged Alicia to run faster. He slowed down a second to take a shot at the armed men. One of them went down. Nick ran after his sister, the adrenaline letting him bear the pain in his chest. They were still shooting at the siblings' feet; Nick turned to return the favor, slowing down and pulling the trigger. Jeremiah taught him well. One more fell down. Nick turned and ran faster. He thought he got him in the stomach. It was nasty, but Nick wasn't willing to debate his morals again. Not before he had the luxury to stop running.

As far as he understood from the surroundings, the forest and the mountain they wanted to go to were behind them, far behind on the other side of the camping ground. They were running in the opposite direction. The chase fell back, tending to the wounded, and that was the last Nick saw. He didn't turn to look, anymore, until they crossed the highway, reached some trees, got past them, and continued to run until there was some building ahead.

Nick wasn't going to have much air left for longer, but he wasn't going to stop Alicia. She had a nice pace ahead of him, and Nick was grateful for her lungs that were capable of helping her speed.

They ran until Alicia felt like her lungs were going to explode and her legs give out from under her. Nick stopped once or twice to shoot at their pursuers and she paused to watch whenever he did, terrified the bullets they were sending the Clarks' way would find their target in him. They didn't. And soon, the gunfire stopped altogether.

They continued to run. Nick eventually lagged behind and she stopped to let him catch up, not liking the distance between them. They were both breathing too hard to speak, so when they came upon a building with a large sign reading The AS&F Foundation Dining Hall And Activity Center, Alicia simply made vague gestures in that direction.

She peered in through the windows and glass doors, checking for infected inside, but from this vantage point she couldn't see any. The brightly colored banner across the door that declared "Campers Welcome!" was spattered in blood, and didn't make her feel welcome at all, but still… They didn't have many other options.

She nudged the door open with her hip and slipped inside, waiting until Nick joined her before allowing it to fall closed behind her.

"We...can't stay...here," she panted, looking around, trying to assess the direction of the kitchen. "They'll find us...too easily. Are you okay?"

When they got to the building and past some sign Nick couldn't read because it was all blurry colors, he thought he was going to either puke or pass out. Or both. His lungs were on fire, his chest a hellish pit of agony that spilled all over his torso.

He slipped into the open door after Alicia, then dropped down on the floor, his back to the wall, doubling over to catch his breath. Alicia's voice came through the thick of pillows on his ears. Blots of red and black were dancing in his eyes. He only shook his head at her question.

When it became clear he was going to stay conscious, he looked up at her, straining to talk. "We… can't stay… here. If I killed any… of them… they will… chase."

He looked close to passing out and that probably explained why he was repeating what she'd said. Alicia decided to let that go, considering, well, everything. She just nodded in reassurance. "Check your gun. Count the bullets. I'll go check the kitchen for water, and then we leave, okay?"

She didn't know where to go or even their current location, really, but they'd have to figure that out on the move. She headed to the left, down the hallway and ducked into the first open doorway she came across. It was the dining hall advertised outside the building. The kitchen was behind it. Her gun at the ready, she navigated her way through the chaotic array of tables and chairs until she reached her intended destination. Like most of the other places they'd come across in the past it was picked clean. She tested the taps. It sputtered water colored orange, filled with rust and other substances she was not willing to put in her body. It didn't seem to get better over time either.

"Fuck."

* * *

Troy only had to stab the boy once more before Katie started singing like a canary. She'd drugged them last night with the drink and then she and her merry band of chance takers had come in and carried them away. She hadn't told him why, yet, but it was enough to motivate him into action.

"Get up," he demanded.

"W-What?"

"I said get up. We're going."

Katie stared at him, eyes glassy and red from crying, and then she slowly climbed to her feet. "W-where a-are w-we g-going?" She was speaking so softly he strained to hear her.

Stone-cold killer.

Troy'd have laughed if he didn't feel this entire thing was ironic. "Timbuktu."

He strode toward her, grabbed a hold of her upper arm and hauled her away from the safety of the wall, ignoring her trembling as she stumbled into him and then beside him.

"W-what a-about T-Timmy?" she sobbed, breaking away from Troy momentarily to look back at the still unconscious figure in the middle of the walkway as they headed for the door.

"He'll live."

"How can you be sure?"

"I'm not."

Another sob tore from her lips, distinctly louder and silenced as he shoved her into the wall, bringing the bloody tip of the blade up to her stomach, applying just enough pressure to make her flinch at the realization.

"Just because you're a girl, doesn't mean I won't split you from naval to nose."

He applied more pressure to the handle for emphasis. She gasped and nodded frantically.

"You're going to wipe your face, put on a smile and stick close when we go outside. You run, I'll wedge this into your back and paralyze you before anyone can pull a trigger." He drew the knife upward, not letting it slice the fabric as much as it did caress it like a lover, and let the tip come to rest beneath her chin. "Who else was involved with kidnapping my friends? Henry? Rosemary?"

She tipped her head away from the blade and gently shook her head. "J-just u-us."

"You and napster?"

She looked blank for a second. Troy sighed.

"Jimmy, Tom, Tim, whatever," he corrected.

"Y-yes," she answered, voice cracked with tears.

"Seems pretty put together for two pubescent idiots such as yourselves."

Her gaze jumped to the ceiling and then to the left. Another indication that she'd lied, that she was protecting someone – possibly a whole group of someone's. Unfortunately, Troy couldn't get the answers he wanted from her on the Ranch. Someone was going to look for them eventually.

"Is there another way off the ranch other than the front gate?"

Katie shook her head.

"Are you sure? From what I can tell about this place, about George, I'm sure he has a plan B in place in case this place gets overrun and you all need to get out safely. He'd be stupid not to. How else would he save the cattle?"

"I-I'm n-not l-lying," she entreated.

Troy hadn't said that she was, he was merely making an observation, but now that he thought about it, maybe he'd given her too little credit. He stepped back from her abruptly, heading back toward the boy, bending to grab a fistful of his hair, immediately pressing the blade to his neck as he crouched down.

"NO!" she cried, the stutter buried by adrenaline.

He drew the knife against the boy's neck and cut into the soft flesh slowly.

"Please stop! I'll take you! I'll take you."

"Would it be possible to do so unseen and with a horse?"

"N-no b-but I-I'll h-help y-you! J-just d-don't k-kill h-him!"

Troy removed the knife as if it were a favor to her, smiling as he did, grabbing a fistful of the kid's shirt to drag him away from the door and to the back of the room, to the dark corner they'd shared a few moments ago.

She hadn't run.

That was a good sign.

Troy walked over to her and raised a hand to wipe the tears from her face, gripping her chin to remind her of his promise, and then prepared to open the door. "Let's go get Fido."

* * *

Nick had to sit with his back to the wall, breathing slowly, for a longer time to be able to get up. When he managed to get on his feet, shaking with exhaustion, Alicia wasn't back yet. He peeked out the windows. There was nothing alarming at first, but then he saw some people approach.

He dashed to where his sister had disappeared earlier, finding her in the kitchen. "They're here, we gotta leave! We need a back door, now!"

Nick's appearance startled her, but as soon as his words sunk in, she dashed for him and back into the hallway. "This way."

It was pure guesswork, but once more they found themselves with very few viable options. She clutched the shoulder of Nick's shirt as they hastily rounded a corner and reached a glass door leading to a nearly empty parking lot. There were several buildings up ahead, but if the lake-people had come here, she assumed they would check them all.

The siblings crouched down, staying low as they moved across the parking lot, trying to stay out of sight.

There was not too much space to maneuver or hide. A few cars abandoned at the back of the house they were in spared them a little trouble covering the retreat. There was a bigger house across the driveway, but they didn't go there. From the short glance over his shoulder, Nick saw they were heading to it. There seemed to be four people after them, three men and a woman that looked like the one in her thirties, tough and angry.

Only two of them entered the house, the other two went around the back. And then the Clarks dashed forward, toward another building with a flat roof.

There was a stray walker wandering around there. They stabbed him and dragged inside as they went. Leaving him in front of the house was like announcing where they went. The lake-people could find them, anyway, but it felt better to not leave any bread crumbs.

There were three floors. They stopped on the landing leading to the third to catch their breaths. A few more dead came after them, and they put them down on their way here.

"So what," Nick asked, panting. "The floor or the roof? The latter means we're trapped, but we can control who gets there after us."

The adrenaline coursing through her body made it difficult to choose logic over instinct, and when they finally had a split-second decision to make, Alicia had to force herself to think.

"The roof," she said, checking her gun even if she knew she still had a full sleeve of ammo. She had yet to fire a single shot. "We can pick them off one by one if they follow."

They were both decent shots, and she told herself it wouldn't be too hard to put bullets in the heads of the living like they so often did the dead. As far as she knew, it was them or the Clarks now, and she did not want another repeat of the events with Proctor John. If she got her chance, she wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger.

Nick looked at her incredulously, feeling like he was stuck in some bizarre dream about to get ugly while he still wasn't sure how to wake up.

"With just these guns, we won't become snipers, Lisha," he said. "They certainly won't make it easy for you. This is the Alamo I was talking about on our way here. The very thing I feared and wanted to avoid. We go up that roof now, and we're done. We're stuck there with two choices – die up there or come down to them and die anyway. We need to try to not get trapped."

"Then why did you suggest it in the first place?!" she hissed, darting after him down the stairs and outside.

He trotted down the stairs and back to the first floor. There was no sight of the pursuers yet, so they snuck out the back door and ran for the trees. There was a hill to the left with a water tower. Another roof to get stuck on. Past the hill, Nick recalled there should be some other park and maybe a few buildings. The pickings were extremely slim in this area when it came to hiding places. But running off into the wilderness wasn't the smartest move, either. They could easily get lost and not find their way back to Troy.

A dog was barking where they came from. They brought a dog. And Nick's old clothes were conveniently left in the trailer next to the guard he knocked out (or killed).

He grabbed Alicia's arm and ran sideways, around the hill. To whatever might be there behind it.

There happened to be a thin creek crossing their path. They stopped for a few gulps of water, then ran along it for a bit before continuing past the rare trailers and to a house sitting among a few trees.

For a long time trees and more trees seemed to be the only thing in their vicinity, but Alicia realized it was highly possible that what felt like long minutes in her tired mind may have been nothing more than seconds.

When they finally closed in on a house in a clearing, she doubled over, hands braced on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. She could taste blood, which in itself didn't worry her, considering it was a common occurrence whenever she ran for long stretches, but it certainly didn't make her feel better. The only thing keeping her going was adrenaline and the knowledge if they were caught, the lake-people would kill them both.

There were a few cars parked outside the house, but they didn't seem to have been in use for quite some time. And the house itself appeared abandoned. At least from the outside.

Alicia forced herself to straighten and looked to her brother. He didn't seem to be faring much better than herself. "Any idea where we are in relation to the ranch? The jeep?"

Nick ushered her inside the house, pulling his knife out the second he saw the walker, withered and slow, notice them from the back of the room. He appeared to be alone, wearing a uniform of a Hurkey Creek Park ranger. The siblings dropped in the chairs, doubling over to get their breathing in order.

"I have… a faint… idea," Nick confessed, wiping the knife on his trouser and sheathing it. "We're… north-west… from the ranch… far enough… north of… the lake. In the complete opposite… direction of… what I intended."

* * *

Katie stuck close to Troy as they walked for the stables, a small smile forced onto her lips as if she thought that would make her look normal and less inclined to panic.

"Lock your shit down, Kate. One would swear you've never kidnapped anyone before," he whispered.

Katie flushed and her mouth opened with the visceral need to plead her case.

"No judgements. I don't care." He really didn't. "All I want is my friends and you can go about the rest of your days abducting whoever the hell else you want."

Katie faltered in her step and stared at him in confusion and disbelief.

"Out of interest, how many times have you guys done this?"

Katie averted her gaze and bit her lip. She was wrestling with an answer. Eventually she held up a hand.

"Five other times?" he asked to make sure he was getting the correct meaning. She nodded. "And you drugged them every time?" She nodded again. "Tsk. Poor technique."

Her brows drew down and her features pinched, earning a smile from him.

The stable was lifeless when they reached it and the horses weren't let out for the day to wander in the field nearby because the dead complicated things and all hands were needed with the cattle. You couldn't release them to a cordoned section and disappear as you did in the past. You had to watch them in turns. Troy hadn't had the time to figure out their structure or how they did things but he surmised that it had to be similar to his own.

Maybe better.

Katie grabbed a blanket and a saddle and dumped them on the railing as she opened up the door and guided Fido out of his stall. He was living the life. Around him was clean water and a freshly stacked hay. He didn't appear to want for anything. Pity for him it was short-lived.

Troy patted his muzzle with his free hand, the other resting on the handle of the knife tucked into the top of his pocket. Katie laid the blanket across the horse's back and then struggled with the saddle.

It didn't take her long but he didn't help her, either.

When she was done, Troy checked her handiwork to make sure she'd buckled it up properly and they wouldn't fall off while riding, and gestured for her to get on. She hesitated and then did so, looking stiff and uncomfortable seated on top of him.

"You don't ride very often?" She shook her head. "Well, at least try to pretend that you want to. Smile."

The muscles in her face appeared to strain, as if she'd forgotten how, and overall the process looked fake.

"Forget it. Just get us out of here without making waves."

Troy removed the knife from his pocket, unrolled his sleeves and tucked it into the inside of his hand, fingers cupping the sharp edge to conceal it, arm relaxed against his body as they walked for the back of the estate.

The fencing looked exactly the same as the sides, only there was an obvious panel as you approached the back, when you knew what to look for, that was easily shifted and rolled and allowed you to exit undetected. The gateway to a lush spot he estimated they allowed the animals to visit frequently.

"Katie!" someone called as Troy tried to unlink the complex set of chains and locks. Troy didn't recognize him by name but he remembered seeing him last night. "Where are you going?"

"I-I thought I'd s-show Troy the f-field out back and w-where he can run his horse," she said, controlling the stutter, adding a smile that looked almost genuine.

He turned to Troy. "You need a key for that," he stated.

"You do?" Troy asked, meeting his gaze, smiling, feeling the girl's eyes on him before he gave her a look.

"I-I f-forgot."

Seemed a pretty big thing to forget. Only Troy didn't say that out loud.

"It's okay," the man announced with a chuckle and a passing frown, glancing between the two of them, moving to help Troy with the gate. Troy drew the arm cradling the knife closer, gaze glued to the girl as he stepped aside. The man took less than a minute to unwind the chains and to unlock the padlock.

"Your parents know you're doing this?"

She shook her head. "Y-you know what t-they're like. They'll w-worry."

"They have every right to do so, Katie."

"I-I know, Dave, I j-just…"

She glanced at Fido's back, fingers combing his mane and then looked at Troy, lingering with an intensity that was mildly suggestive to anyone that was stupid enough to believe it. Troy smiled a fraction wider at the man who looked no more than five or six years older than him.

"You look after her," Dave acknowledged. "And be back before sundown. If anything happens to her, you'll be on dump duty until you hit the afterlife."

"You got it," Troy retorted.

Troy winked at Katie, took the chains from Dave and guided the horse through the gate. He secured the chains again since Dave was still standing there, and slipped the lock into position without snapping it shut completely.

"Before sundown!" Dave mouthed as a goodbye, walking away to tend to whatever else he had to do.

"Good job," Troy praised once the man had disappeared and he was able to pull himself onto the saddle behind her. "Nice try with the gate though."

She shuddered against him. "I-I w-wasting t-trying—"

"Save it," he snapped, cutting her off, offering Fido a gentle tap of the heels to send him into a steady trot. "You do anything like that again and I'll not only paralyze you but I'll kill whoever gets in the way."

He didn't need a verbal response from her to know that the message was clear, it was written all over her body and in the way she was unable properly sync as they rode for the lake.

* * *

That wasn't exactly good news but it couldn't be helped. Alicia wouldn't have been able to lead them anywhere different had she been in her brother's shoes. There was one direction open and they had taken it.

Alicia wasn't able to sit down too long. Nerves got the best of her and soon she was back on her feet, pacing, eyeing the dirty windows for any sign of change out there.

"Is the ranch even safe if we somehow make it back there? Are they all in on it?"

She felt so stupid for having put even a sliver of trust into those friendly faces they had met there. Rosemary. Henry. Was this some sort of deal they had with the lake-people? To keep the peace?

She froze at the sound of a dog barking. No… dogs. Plural. Instinctively, she dropped to her haunches so to not be visible in the window, her gaze darting from Nick to the entrance to the back door they'd seen when disposing of the infected earlier.

"They're going to run us until we can't go any further," she murmured, some awful images of a fox-hunting documentary popping into her head. "Until we're too exhausted to continue."

Didn't mean they had the luxury to stop. She crawled to the wall and slowly raised herself enough to peek out the window looking out over the front of the clearing. Despite the barking that seemed to come from several directions, she couldn't see anyone approaching.

"Yeah, I'm already there," Nick confessed, leaning back in the chair. "I don't think I can do any more running. But I can distract them for you to run for the ranch."

Now it was her turn to look incredulous. "That's your self-destructive instincts talking," she murmured, continuing to watch the outside. "I'm not leaving without you, so you can slap that thought off your list of ideas."

Still no one in sight. The barking had quieted down as well, but she still couldn't be sure from which direction it had come.

Nick had to laugh. There wasn't much mirth in it, but he somehow couldn't help it. It was all funny in the most disastrous of ways.

"You can sue me for caring about you later," he chided, still smiling. "But before slapping it outta me, ask yourself, do you really wanna let them get you and do whatever they planned? We got no idea what it would be, but I would bet my life on it not being just a slit throat or a bullet for you. They don't draw a bath for you to just kill off, Alicia. I don't even wanna think about what that implies."

Did he think she hadn't thought of that, that it had somehow gone over her head and went beyond her understanding of human nature? She wasn't an idiot. She knew whatever those freaks had planned would be anything but a simple, easy death. But that didn't matter.

She moved to her brother, crouched down in front of his chair and took his free hand in hers, squeezing. "I'm. Not. Leaving. You," she said, making sure her words penetrated that thick, stubborn skull of his. "I love you."

It wasn't something they often told one another. It had always just been implied. Known. But he seemed to need a reminder.

The shrill sadness her words pierced him with almost stole his breath. Tears stung behind his eyes, but he didn't let them out.

Nick squeezed her hand, speaking softly: "There are things so much worse than death. I love you too much to let you go for it. The only chance we have is if you get to Troy. If they just wanted to kill us, they'd have done it already. There are rules to their crazy, and if they get to me, I won't die at once. You'll have time. I'll have time. If they get you – I don't know what will happen. I don't want you to find out."

Had the ranch been close by or had she known her way there, Alicia might have indulged her brother's need to protect her. But she would never make it in time, if she even made it there at all. The chances of her losing her way out in the forest were too great. And then everything would have been in vain anyway.

The barking started again. Closer this time.

She let go of Nick's hand and rose, her back against the wall as she looked out the window. It was too filthy to see anything out there with perfect clarity, but she would have spotted movement had there been any. So far, it was still quiet.

"No," she said in response to her brother's earlier plea. "No one gets left behind."

The dogs were going to find them sooner rather than later, he was certain. That creek was nothing serious for two dogs to search around and pick up the scent anew. Most of what Nick could count on was about ten minutes. Probably less.

"You're making a mistake," he reasoned desperately. "Crazy people like their rituals to be closer to the night or during. We got plenty of time before the sun sets. You can get to the mountains ridge over there, then move along it to the right, all the way, until you reach the ranch. I'm sure it's there. It's maybe not even a full hour on foot. They could still chase you, but you'd have a head start. Just get to Troy and those people, the parents – they don't know what's going on. They're not a part of it, I don't think they know. They'll help you. Us. Just go."

Déjà vu. It was just like the first night of when the world had gone to shit, when Nick had been a shivering wreck on the couch trying to battle his withdrawals until Mom could make it back with his "medicine". Alicia had intended to leave to check on Matt then, because he was sick and he was alone. And Nick had pleaded for her not to go, terrified, though she couldn't understand why at that moment in time.

Their roles were the same, but the request had flipped over. He was begging her to go now. And just like it had back then, his expectations made her furious. He would never leave her behind. Never. And it pissed her off he seemed to assume she would willingly do that to him.

"No, Nick!" she was shouting now, heat creeping up the back of her neck the angrier she became. "We either go together, or we stay and fight together. I'm not leaving you! Get that through your head."

Nick exhaled loudly, throwing his head back against the chair, shoving the annoyance away.

"How don't you get it, Lisha, the fucking stakes are not the same for you and I," he tried again, staring at her, willing that instinct of self-preservation of hers to kick into gear. "You and I are different kind of meat to them. Your price will be higher. Just please, let me TRY to help you avoid it. Please. It's not a guarantee. It's not a free ticket. It's just a chance. Let me give you a chance, so maybe we both get one."

He forced herself off the chair and spread his arms.

"I'll go with you, but I won't go all the way. I can't. But you have to. You have to try."

"How do you not get that if I leave you here and you die, I won't be able to live with myself?" she threw back at him, her face only softening slightly when he got to his feet and she saw how poorly he was doing.

Of course, her reasoning was the same as his, and they were stuck on the same kind of love that let neither of them step over it. Nick pulled her into a hug, kissed the side of her head. "I do get it, but you'd live knowing it was what I wanted most."

That wouldn't comfort her in the least, but she decided not to say that particular thought out loud. He'd already agreed to leave with her, and she didn't need to complicate it further. Nor did she have the time for it. She still leaned into his embrace when he wrapped his arms around her, her own closed around his waist. It was hard to let go knowing this could very well be the last time they ever hugged, but it had to be done.

She inhaled, staring at the ceiling a moment before her gaze drifted to the dead infected by the back door.

"Think his blood will mask our scent some from the dogs?"

He squeezed her tighter, then let go, observing the dead man on the floor. Then he pulled his knife out.

"Worth a try. We don't have time to waste."

They cut the body and started covering themselves in gore. They pulled the boots off and soaked them in the stinky blood and stomach juices. The corpse didn't have much to spare, so that was not in their favor. But they made most of what they had before slipping out and running for the ridge. The dogs were close, and they could hear the pursuers' voices. Nick wondered if any more joined yet.

They covered themselves in as much blood and slime as they could squeeze from the corpse, then slipped outside. They ran but their speed had greatly diminished, nothing compared to what it was earlier. The sound of the dogs and voices in the distance allowed them to push further than what they would normally have managed, but it still wasn't long before both of them seriously began to struggle again.

Alicia's hand locked around Nick's wrist, terrified he would somehow be snatched away from her during their clumsy escape, especially now the world around her became blurrier and harder to focus on under the burning sun.

They slowed down to almost a crawl when Alicia's hand clasped around his wrist, making him wince. The bruised trace of his previous heroics let him know it was still there.

"Come on," he wheezed, pushing himself to move.

They trotted between the trees, and then they could feel how the slope had started. That was the ridge. A bit farther ahead, they came across a big boulder surrounded by trees.

Nick leaned against it, bending to catch his breath. He tasted copper in his mouth and felt he could collapse any moment.

"You should go on," he told her when he could talk, and raised his arm showing the direction. "There, along the ridge, keep to the trees and rocks, you'll get to the forest and the ranch. If they get to here, I'll slow them down. If they won't, I'll follow you. Go, Lisha, make it all count. Please."

Her breath got stuck in her throat when they finally stopped, and she felt as though she couldn't get enough air in her lungs. Her feet were hurting, as well, her boots having chafed the skin at her heels for miles now.

She struggled, hands on her knees again, forcing herself to listen to Nick, eyeing the direction where he pointed, shaking her head until it hurt.

"I...can't...leave...you," she breathed, like it was a mantra nailed into the very root of her being. She clutched her side, looking around for options. Nick wouldn't make it much further, and to be honest, neither would she. But there weren't really any good places to hide here, not within view anyway. If they stayed and the lake-people successfully tracked them, they would find the Clarks easily.

Rubbing her hands across her face, she breathed a frustrated sigh, tears stinging her eyes. "How many bullets have you got left?"

Nick wasn't going to check, he didn't care. "About seven, maybe. If there were thirteen to begin with."

He looked back to where they could expect the chase to appear. None so far, but he could hear them in the distance.

"Just go, don't waste time, give us a chance, come on, Lisha, go. Please, just go. Get Troy. You'll save us both. Please."

When he didn't respond to her question, she yanked his gun away and handed him hers. There were still ten rounds left in her magazine, giving him a bigger chance of taking anyone down should they come at him.

She pulled him on for a one-armed hug, trying hard not to cry as she whispered: "I'll come back for you. Don't let them hurt you. Shoot to kill."

It was roughly the same he had urged her to do before they escaped the trailer earlier.

Then Alicia turned and forced herself to jog along the side of the ridge, as quickly as she could manage without tripping over her own feet. She didn't turn around to look at him. Couldn't. She'd lose her nerve and return instantly if she did.

But she couldn't fight the feeling of wrongness lodged in her chest as she ran. Everything about this was wrong. It felt as though she had just pulled the trigger on Nick herself.


	13. Chapter 13

**THE CHOSEN ONES — PART 3**

A comber of relief, however meek, rolled through Nick as she caved. He hugged her, relishing in this moment, hoping, praying she would make it. That he would be able to slow them down enough.

Nick was glad she didn't look back as she jogged away. It didn't need to be any harder. It was lucky he talked her into leaving at all.

He snuck around the boulder, leaning against a tree as he watched the slope. It wasn't a full five minutes before he saw the dogs. Two husky-sized dogs sniffing the ground, whining.

It was a shame, but Nick sucked in a breath and aimed. In the last second, he shifted the gun and shot at the ground under the paws. The dog jumped, startled. They both started barking, not daring to come closer. The trailer gang gained in another half a minute, urging the dogs to venture forward again. Nick cursed, aimed and shot. One of the men went down screaming, gabbing at his thigh. The woman kneeled by his side, others opened fire at the boulder. Nick cowered behind it, thinking their rules didn't overweigh their anger.

But then someone yelled at them to stop. They argued, but Nick couldn't make anything out over the dogs barking. He peeked out and saw they leashed the pets. It was good. He didn't want to shoot them. It felt nasty. More so than shooting people, and the idea alone made him a bit sick.

"You can run but you can't hide!" the woman called, rising to her feet as her wounded companion was being helped to sit against the tree by two others. "This is the end of your road, so why make it so hard on yourselves and so easy on us? You wasted all the stamina you needed, sillies. Surrender, unless you want us to make you hurt more."

Nick aimed and shot. The bullet hit half a foot before her boots. She fell back a step instinctively, but chuckled.

"This ain't gonna help if you shoot us. You don't have enough bullets."

"Next one goes into you," Nick called back, checking him magazine. "I don't wanna shoot you, but I will."

She seemed amused, squinting against the sun, shielding her eyes with a palm. "Right. Well, you wounded two now, and shot one of ours dead. It's severe and deserves some payback. Surrender now, and your girl won't pay for your shit. Come on, it's a fair deal, and it expires in twenty seconds."

Nick sighed, noticing how all the aches and pains harbored in his body started to pour into one huge pool that grew into a tall wave of suffering within ten seconds of what she counted. He was so damn tired. He just wanted to lie down and die. But Alicia deserved to not have her chance screwed up.

"Five seconds," the woman called.

"Just shoot the sonofabitch," the wounded man growled.

"That's primitive," she threw over her shoulder, then turned to scan the rock Nick was behind. "Come out now. Or you'll be sorry you didn't."

Nick thought of all the times he could have shot Troy and didn't. He thought of Ofelia's face when he glimpsed her that night at the ranch before the poison screwed him over. He thought of Jeremiah and his last words before Nick put a bullet in his head. He thought of Calvin, of their talk in the diner before he took Nick to slaughter.

Nick aimed and hit the wounded one in the head. The two men tending to him cursed, scooting away, all covered in brain spatter and blood.

Then they started shooting. It was a thunderstorm, deafening and disorienting. Wood splinters and chips of rock flew over Nick. When they slowed their fire one per few seconds, Nick prepared to try again, but the dog's jaws yanked at his arm. It got the jacket sleeve, luckily, and he shot it and shook the sleeve free.

And then the world tumbled, and Nick's temple exploded in a load of painful firecrackers. In a blurry series of visions, he saw a few silhouettes over him. Something clicked, and he felt a prick in his shoulder. It was… a dart.

"Bang, you lose," the woman said before the world went grey and black.

* * *

Alicia ran as quickly as she was able, for as far as she could. She couldn't tell how much time had passed since she left Nick but it already felt like an eternity. There had been no sounds of gunshots or screams of pain, and that soothed her some. Until she realized she was probably too far away to have heard them, anyway.

Eventually, she had to slow to a walk. Then a stumble. She was panting for air and her head was killing her. But she continued, thinking of Nick. He needed her. He needed her to get Troy.

Her foot caught on a raised tree root and she fell onto her hands and knees. That hurt, too, but didn't do nearly as much damage as that traitorous feeling of defeat closing in on her.

Alicia had to at least be halfway to the ranch now. She could make it.

She was about to push herself back on her feet when she heard rustling between the leaves to her right. She stared at the shrubs there, eyes wide, heart in her throat.

 _Please, be a deer._ Hell, she'd even take an infected. But it was neither.

It was a great big dog that burst from the bushes and rushed for her. Alicia raised her gun and shot at it without even thinking. The bullet struck right between its frothing jaws and it fell to the forest floor with a brief whine. Then silent.

Shakily, Alicia got up, backtracking a few steps until she could find her balance and the right direction. She didn't make it five feet before something huge and hard slammed into her side and brought her back down on the ground. She struggled to turn around and caught sight of a huge man. He was built like a linebacker and more bear than human. He was on top of her, pinning her, prying the gun from her hand and throwing it out of reach. Then his giant fingers closed around her throat, squeezing hard. He grinned down at her as she gasped for air, gleeful and excited.

"Caught myself a pretty, little rabbit," he sneered, just before her world went dark.

Alicia seemed to dip in and out of consciousness in the time that followed, unable to comprehend much except for a familiar female voice calling out.

"Hey! She's not yours to touch!"

"Yet." The man growled, throwing Alicia over his shoulder, carrying her weight with ease. "Let's just get 'em back to camp."

Again time became a blurry concept. Most of her semi-conscious moments were experienced upside down and with a view of the fallen foliage. Alicia could have sworn they spent some time in a car, but when the hazy fog crowding her mind slowly dissipated, she wasn't sure anymore. She did see her brother, though. Someone hauled him away none-too-gently and stowed him in a trailer. The people who watched him spat in his wake. They seemed angry.

"Nick…" Alicia wheezed, surprised to hear the sound out loud. The bear-man whose shoulder she was carried on, flipped her around like a ragdoll until her feet feebly connected with the ground and he could hold her up by her throat.

His hold on her was agonizing, and tears briefly sprung to her eyes before another female voice ordered him to let her go and transfer her into the care of the girl from before.

"I'll be seeing you soon," he whispered in Alicia's ear before handing her over. Someone took hold of both her arms and half-carried, half-dragged her back into the trailer where Nick had found her earlier.

The woman who had come for them in the forest was not present this time. She'd been replaced with another young girl. The two of them repeated the ritual from earlier, only this time they were the ones to undress Alicia, probably realizing she could not make much of a resistance at this point, but nor would Alicia be much of a help.

The warm water was dangerously soothing, and despite her attempts at staying awake, Alicia dozed off for a few minutes here and there.

The next time she fully woke she was laying atop a cot, dressed in a white linen dress that had probably found the height of its popularity sometime in the 1800s. It was sleeveless and reached to her ankles, the fabric cinched just beneath her breasts as if they were supposed to be on display.

"Do you feel okay?"

It was the young girl from before. She was sporting a cut on her forehead from where Nick had hit her, but she no longer seemed as frightened. She perched on the bed beside Alicia and held out a bottle of water.

"You should drink something. There's bread, too."

This kindness confused Alicia. She lifted herself up on her elbows, regarding the girl warily.

"Where's my brother?" It hurt to speak. Her throat was sore. Almost like the time she'd had strep throat as a child.

The girl smiled gently. "He's safe. You'll see him later."

She pushed the bottle into Alicia's hand and Alicia accepted it, but didn't drink. The girl rose and went over to a nearby table, pulling a cloth away from a basket to reveal slices of homemade bread.

"What are you going to do to us?"

The girl was silent a moment, unwilling to meet Alicia's eyes. But she still smiled.

"You've been chosen," she said, a direct repeat of what she had told Alicia before. "It's a great honor."

Alicia swallowed, winced at that, and let her head fall back against the pillows.

* * *

Waking up was a bad experience. It took a long moment to put all the pieces together in his foggy brain. Nick found himself in the familiar trailer. A couple of blood drops dried on the floor, a few smeared – from his own wrists. They were bound behind his back once again. From the feel of it, there were three zip ties this time: one on each wrist, hooked together, and one more tying them both. He wasn't going to get out of this combination.

Nick sat up, grunted, and leaned against the wall, trying to get his wits together. His temple was pounding, probably blooming with a new bruise, and he felt utterly exhausted. That tranquilizer dart had stuffed his head with cotton.

He glanced at the window. The sun was still up and shining. Nick dared estimate it was about one or two in the afternoon. It was going to be a long day. The longest and probably the last.

* * *

"You really should drink something," the girl said again, looking at the water bottle. Alicia held it out to her.

"You first."

The girl indulged her and took a sip then proceeded to take a bite of the bread. Alicia watched her a long time as she puttered around the trailer, fetching various items including a comb and rubber bands. She looked fine. Alicia helped herself to some water, but struggled to swallow any. It hurt too much going down. She didn't even bother with the bread.

The door opened and the girl from before, a brunette, entered carrying a tray of tiny glass vials. This was getting weirder by the minute.

"Fuck this…" Alicia murmured under her breath and tried to get on her feet. She swayed lightly and the two caught her before she could topple over and faceplant the floor.

"Careful," the brunette chided as they carefully placed her back on the bed. They didn't force Alicia to lie down, though. "Save your strength."

Again, the need to ask them what the hell for sprang to mind, but Alicia didn't bother. Every time she tried, she was met with the same response: You've been chosen. It's a great honor.

They sat on either side of her, brushing her hair as though Alicia was their new doll, not stopping until her scalp felt raw and sore. They added a few tiny braids and small purple flowers, dabbed some sort of essential oils along her collarbone and cleavage, and some other concoction Alicia didn't recognize on her forehead. They murmured nonsense about spirits and blessings and sacrifices that needed to be made. In the end, Alicia tuned them out, relaxed as best she could to gather her strength for whatever was coming next.

* * *

As Nick sat with nothing else to do but try to think and take inventory of himself, he noticed the jacket was gone. It contained most of the gore, and he guessed that was the reason.

Sometime later, the door opened, and the woman that chased the siblings with her group came in. She wore a sardonic smile.

"So, was it worth it?" she asked, her arms folding.

"Which 'it' do you mean?"

"Any you can think of," she shrugged. "Was it?"

He thought about it a moment. "It was worth it to try to get away from you crazy lot," he said, regarding her with a tired interest. "I'm not proud of shooting at your people, even less so the dogs, but given you kept chasing, yeah, it was worth it."

She looked thoughtful, mulling it over, then nodded subtly, glancing under her feet. Next, her eyes locked on him again, this time with a sharper edge. "Jack was dear to us. So were the dogs."

"I know," he said simply. "She is dear to me, too. Why did you take her?"

"She's the conduit," she said. "For the spirits. And you're the offering. You will open the door."

Nick frowned, straining to understand. It was some kind of religious bullshit, but there was logic in it. He had to get it right. Both Clarks depended on it. "What does a conduit do?"

She seemed to debate continuing this conversation, but then decided to humor him. "Lets the spirits touch us. And you are the key. Who are you to her?"

Nick wasn't sure if it could bring any more harm to say the truth. "Brother."

She smiled, her brows rising in brief display of pleased surprise. "The better. Blood is the best key when it's the same. It was worth it chasing you." She shrugged. "I thought you should know in return."

A knock on the door. She cracked it open.

"All clear, let's do this."

"Okay," she turned to Nick. "Get up."

"Why?"

"Because I'd like to not beat it out of you, if you please? Because I don't mind – Jack was my family."

Considering it reasonable enough, Nick struggled to his feet. She pulled a gun from the holster, but didn't point it. She gestured at the door with it.

"Go ahead. Don't let me assist you."

Nick obeyed. His head hurt enough as it was, and he felt he needed it clearer for whatever the pagans had planned.

The woman and an armed man escorted him to the trailer he found Alicia in earlier. The tub was half-filled. A bucket with water stood next to it. A heap that he recognized to be his old clothes rested on the floor next to it.

The man stayed outside while she cut the zip ties, then nudged Nick toward the tub with the gun muzzle in the back. "Wash and put your stuff on, you got fifteen minutes. Starting now."

Nick turned to look at her, expecting her to leave him to it. She leaned against the wall, her arms folded, eyeing him ironically. Nick started to peel off Sam's clothes.

The water was probably straight from the lake, cold. When he was done and reached for his shirt, his teeth were clattering, his skin covered in goosebumps.

"So how does that key-conduit thing work?" he ventured once again.

"Your blood will unlock the door," she replied like it was something as trivial and obvious as the color of the sky. "The spirits shall come into her and be with us. It was promised for this moon."

Nick was balancing between irrational fear at how dangerous fanatics could be and anger at their making them a part of their crazy-ass shit they never asked for. The sheer unfairness of it all was stabbing him repeatedly. Deep down, he felt a pang of regret he didn't kill Sam. Would have been one asshole less.

She put new zip ties on his suffering wrists and escorted him back where she left him sitting on the floor, sort of clean and waiting for whatever doom they were cooking for the Clarks, the chosen ones.

* * *

Once they finished up at Henry's place, Troy took the girl to the cabin they'd parked the jeep in front of. Thankfully, it was still there when they arrived and untouched.

Troy didn't like leaving it out there, exposed, but as of yet those trailer loonies hadn't come up this way and there was nothing to be done about that anyway.

Maybe because they didn't need to.

Katie held the box of explosives, fear radiating off her like fever.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her closer. He dumped the weapons from the container into the box. He could see her look at them with deep consideration and near longing, and part of him wanted her to try for it.

The vindictive part that thirsted for blood in retribution for what she'd done to his friends.

He unscrewed the water bottle, filling it up from one of the larger ones they'd found.

"You want? It's probably not as tasty as last night's concoction but it should do."

She shook her head. He smirked and took a long sip, shutting the doors, gesturing for her to walk toward the cabin. The blankets were still outside on the railing where Alicia had left them to air out.

Once inside, Troy emptied one of the clothing bags he'd found in the car parked in the garage and stuffed all the weapons into them, along with the recently filled water bottle.

"How many of them are there?" he asked.

It hadn't mattered before because he didn't know how much and what he could get his hands on.

Katie stared at him. "W-what are y-you going to do?"

He blinked, dumbfounded and a lot annoyed. "I'm going to invite them over for thanksgiving dinner," he snapped sarcastically. "What do you think I'm going to do?"

"Y-you c-can't do it."

Did she really think he was going to? What the hell was she on about? Did her brains rattle out of her ears on the last trip over here or was she having a premature breakdown?

"You c-can't kill them."

Ah. He screwed the scope back onto his rifle, checked the ammunition and slung it onto his shoulder.

"You d-do that and you'll ruin the ritual."

"This ritual… that… involves my friends, right?"

She swallowed thickly as if it had only just occurred to her how close they were.

"What do you think we've been doing for the last half hour? Gathering ingredients for a cookout? Katie. Use. Your. Brain. Or at least what's left of it. You're not dead yet."

Her eyes welled up and no part of him felt a stitch of pity for his malice, hell, his father had said worse to him on any given Sunday. It would make her stronger – in time.

"Again." Troy straightened up and removed the knife. "How many of them are there? Do they have weapons? What kind? How many men? Women? Are there children?"

 _Anything that I could leverage that would be worth a damn besides you!_

She was fully crying now, sobbing obnoxiously. He hated that sound almost as much as he loved the sound of the safety snapping off a gun.

He grabbed one of the cotton shirts he'd dumped on the floor and cut it into ratty strips, knotting them together to make them longer before winding them around the trembling girl's ankles. Her shock sliced through her cry and her hand immediately lashed out to grip his shoulder, as if somehow that was going to stop what he was doing and he'd see reason to her madness.

When Troy was done with her ankles and satisfied that they were cutting enough circulation to be uncomfortable, he took a hold of her wrist, hauled her to her feet and wrenched her arm behind her back to tie them together. He wasn't gentle about it, either. The only punishment he could afford at this moment.

"My parents will look for me! Dave knows I left with you!"

"And just what do you think Dave and your parents will think when I tell them you've been fooling around with human sacrifice? The occult?"

It had been a test, but from the way she flushed and turned a shade of extra white, he could tell that maybe the older generation didn't know what their spring chickens were getting up to.

"Oh," he taunted with a grin, dropping the knife onto the open weapons bag, scooping her off her feet and onto his free shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Someone's going to be grounded when they get home."

Troy picked up the bag and carried her outside, clicking his tongue to call Fido as he headed for the garage. The horse trotted over as if he'd been with them forever and knew what to listen and when to ignore a command.

A good dog.

Troy dropped both the girl and the bag onto the ground and opened the large door, grabbing the back of the girl's shirt to drag her into the depth of the space. She kicked and writhed as the ground tore whatever flesh came in contact with gravel, struggling to sit up as he let her go.

Next, he retrieved Fido, slipping him into the safety of the garage to act as a companion to the girl and more importantly to keep him safe. If Troy left him outside unattended and he got killed, when Troy managed to rescue Nick (and Alicia) he'd never hear the end of it from the Clarks.

"Comfy?" he asked rhetorically, stepping in front of the horse as he tried to escape, pressing a hand gently to his muzzle to coax him back. There wasn't time for water and there wasn't time for more grass. "Keep an eye on Fido."

With that, Troy stretched up for the edge of the door and shut them inside, confident that the girl wouldn't scream and that even if she did that she wouldn't be heard. He picked up his bag, slung it over his free shoulder and resolutely headed for the trees to make his way to the trailers.

* * *

The next time the door opened to Alicia's trailer, a woman in her fifties stepped inside. She was tall and slender, had long greying hair that fell beneath her shoulders, and deep laugh lines around her eyes. They made her look deceptively friendly.

Both of the girls beamed up at her, watching her reverently, with the utmost respect and something akin to adoration. Did that make her a leader of this place then?

She came to stand before Alicia and held her hands out for hers. Alicia didn't take them. The woman didn't seem to mind and pulled Alicia to her feet anyway before she looked her over with a pleased expression.

"Well done, sisters," she praised the younger ones, though never took her eyes off the prize. Her hands cupped Alicia's face with great care, like a mother caressing her daughter's cheeks. "You are very beautiful, child. Brave too, I imagine. Strong of mind and will. That is why the spirits chose you."

Her gaze moved around the room as if she could see something Alicia could not and she smiled. When she looked at Alicia again, her eyes fell to the bruises blossoming on her throat. The woman frowned.

"I am sorry about that. I wish Benjamin had been more careful. But we couldn't lose you. You are too important."

"Why?" Alicia asked instantly, unable to keep the anger in her voice at bay.

"You are the conduit."

"Conduit of what?"

"The spirits."

Alicia didn't understand. Did the woman mean they believed Alicia would somehow be able to communicate with whatever deities they worshipped? Or when she said spirits, did she mean the souls of those who had passed?

"I don't understand," Alicia admitted.

The older woman smiled benevolently, stroking her cheek. "It will all become clear. Soon, you will know everything there is to know. You will be one with the spirits."

The more they talked, the more questions Alicia had and none of the answers anyone provided her seemed to solve a damned thing.

The woman turned to the two girls. "It's time. Get ready."

They eagerly rose from the bed and each of them took one of Alicia's arms in theirs, leading her out of the trailer.

"I want to see my brother," Alicia called back over her shoulder at the woman.

"You will see him soon," she responded calmly, disappearing from view as the girls and Alicia headed out.

There were a few people gathered outside, seemingly packing and preparing. They all stopped what they were doing to watch the girls as they moved, and Alicia did not like what she saw reflected in their gazes as they looked at her. Especially the men. There was a predatory hunger there that made a shiver run down her spine.

Bear-man, Benjamin as the woman had called him, licked his lips as they passed, sharpening a hunter's knife on a piece of whetstone. Alicia averted her gaze to look straight ahead, finding that her breathing had become more erratic and difficult to control.

"Where are we going?"

"To the red tent," the brunette next to Alicia said, as if that explained everything. "It won't be long now."

* * *

There was a commotion around the trailers as Troy approached in a crouch. People coming and going, some with more purpose than others, a handful carrying boxes and crates and other intricate bullshit that was hard to make out but looked purely decorative. If he didn't know about the ritual, he'd think that they were either leaving or planning a rummage sale at the new all dead bazaar. Katie hadn't told him much about it out of fear that far exceeded his threats or because she was a loyalist, that or she was just plain dumb and didn't have a clue what she was trying to protect. The more time he'd spent with her, the easier it was to believe that it had to do with the latter. She was just a manipulated teen that these people had won over with fictitious stories of glory and riches and a promise to protect her from the undead.

Why else would she be in this deep? Why also would the people at the ranch simply choose to believe that their guests disappeared in the middle of the night? She hadn't elaborated on that part too much and Troy hadn't asked.

If they survived this, maybe he would.

He momentarily pressed himself against the side of a tree, set the bag down behind it and removed his rifle from his shoulder to get a closer look. There were a lot of men, a lot of women, one or two children spread out here and few dogs leashed close to their owners.

They didn't look particularly fierce but sharp teeth would slow any man down.

Troy caught sight of familiar mop of hair that belonged to Nick and breathed a sigh of relief that he was still alive. Considering the time of night they'd left, the unknown and the hour's in-between, Troy'd been worried the outcome might be different and less favorable and that all of this would inevitably lead to revenge.

And nothing more.

He didn't come out again and then another door opened a few moments later, displaying another familiar figure as she was forcefully guided toward what Troy assumed was her chariot.

Where were they taking her? Would Nick be going, too?

Whatever they were planning was in motion and Troy could sense that he was going to have to act fast. He removed a handgun, the machete, some bullets and a couple of the homemade explosives, tucking them into his pockets and around his waist strategically, wishing he had an actual holster or ammunition belt to make things easier.

He fell to his knees, dug a shallow hole beside the tree and clumsily covered the bag with the sand.

It wasn't the best but it was concealed enough to fool someone from a distance.

He picked up his rifle again, raising it as he ran down the sandy incline, staying close to the ground and close to the trees that had faded out in parts and taken his cover with it.

He'd made it as far as the first line of trailers on the outside of the little township without a hassle. He shrugged off the rifle as it would be no use to him in close combat and hid it beneath the trailer where he could get to it.

He freed up his gun, along with a stick of homemade dynamite and lit the latter, giving it a couple of seconds before he'd tossed it over and into the middle of their collective group. Troy didn't wait for the bang he knew was coming and ran from trailer to trailer, tossing the few explosives he had until there was one left.

Shouts broke out in unison and bullets started flying.

* * *

Nick couldn't get warm for a long time. He sat shivering as the images and thoughts fluttered around him, some touching and some grasping to claim all the attention, presenting all the things he had done wrong and all the good chances he had missed. Showing him from different angles the simple truth of how far he still was from what he wanted to be. How much shit he had chosen to do that never got him anywhere he hoped to get. All the killings, all the violence seemed to be in vain. All for nothing. As it always had been when he tried to do the right thing and got it worse, and even worse when he went for a deal with conscience and did the wrong things. It was all the same, all the roads led to hell.

Something exploded outside. His eyes snapped open, his pulse jumped and took off galloping. Another explosion – this time closer. He could feel the tremors in the floor and the walls of the trailer. A few more explosions followed, peppered with gunfire. Someone was storming the camping ground, and he had a faint hope he knew that someone.

Had Alicia gotten to Troy, after all? Had she managed to escape? Had they lied to Nick about all that conduit shit?

The shooting and yelling went on for a while. Nick couldn't make out anything specific, nor guess how it was going. When it all went quiet, leaving the muffled voices, he felt his hope seep out of him like sand from a crack in the hour-glass.

He heard some footfalls approaching. The door opened, and two men dragged in a third. They deposited Troy in the other corner. His hands were tied behind his back; he was unconscious. A bleeding cut on the side of his forehead where the hairline started.

The familiar woman stepped in when the men got out. She jerked her chin toward Troy. "A brother of yours, I presume?"

"Adopted."

She chuckled and left.

Nick leaned his head against the wall, eyeing Troy.

 _There goes the damn hope._

* * *

Alicia was stuffed into a car and whatever hope she had of seeing Nick again quickly waned. Was he even still alive? Did they keep telling her he was safe simply to keep her calm and willing to cooperate?

The two girls slid in on either side of her in the backseat, and off they went. A man looking to be in his early forties was driving and another of a similar age sat beside him in the front passenger seat, a rifle draped across his lap. They didn't openly ogle her like the others at the camp had, but she could sense their interest, sneaky glances thrown over their shoulders every now and then, excitement building. It was disconcerting and bizarre, and filled her with the urge to lunge for the door. But what would be the point? Even if she were to make it out of the car, they'd catch her in no time. Especially if Alicia faceplanted the asphalt during her escape.

The drive didn't take long. Perhaps ten minutes in total. They parked the car on the outskirts of a forest and they walked another two or three minutes among the tall pine trees in order to get to their destination.

She understood then what the girl had meant when she said they were taking Alicia to the red tent. It was literally a red tent. Only, not the kind you would use for camping. It was more of a marquee. Something one would use at a renaissance fair or in movies depicting medieval times. It seemed crazy that someone would even prioritize carrying such an item in these apocalyptic times, but then again, weren't they all crazy?

There were old carpets and rugs on the ground inside, pillows strewn about as if inviting people to come lie down. Garlands of flowers and herbs hung from the ceiling, and in the center of the tent stood a large and sturdy wooden table. It had been covered with a red velvet fabric and decorated with more flowers, apples, and some sort of ceremonial knife. There were lanterns everywhere, illuminating the room with an eerie hue that made Alicia want to flee but that seemed to have the opposite effect on everyone else. The girls at her side looked practically euphoric.

There were already a few other women here, dressed in simple off-white linen dresses. Unlike the one Alicia was currently sporting, theirs looked homemade and identical to one another.

Alicia was handed over to these other women who urged her to sit on the heap of plush pillows with them. For a moment she refused, but at the sound of a gun being lazily cocked in the open doorway, Alicia swallowed her pride and gave in.

They touched her hair, smoothing each stray strand into place, and rubbed and dabbed her arms and chest with more oils, practically grooming her while she surveyed the room itself. The knife on that makeshift altar had looked sharp enough to do some damage. If she could get to it she might have a chance.

The two girls returned before long, now also wearing the same dresses as their older "sisters", and they were wandering the tent with smudge sticks. Alicia assumed at first it was sage, what people always used in the movies to cleanse a house, but it didn't smell like it. Whatever it was it briefly made her eyes water and her head heavy. But those sensations eased up soon enough once they finished.

"Here. Drink this." One of the older women at her side held out a cup of something steaming. Alicia regarded it suspiciously.

"What is it?"

"Tea," she said, smiling gently and urging Alicia to take the mug.

She didn't, turning her head away in silent rejection of her offer.

That was a mistake. Because the four women who had previously treated her relatively kindly suddenly pounced like wildcats, holding her still, forcing her head to remain in place, squeezing her cheeks and jaw painfully until her mouth opened and they were able to pour the liquid down her throat, little by little. It hurt to swallow, but it hurt even more to cough, and in the end, Alicia simply let them carry on so it would end sooner.

They released her when the mug was empty, carefully dabbing at her mouth and chin where some of the tea had spilled and continued to treat her as if she were a doll for them to make pretty.

The tea itself hadn't tasted much, but she still felt nauseous, whether because of the assault on her body or because her stomach was suddenly full.

"Where's my brother?"

The question wasn't new, but Alicia felt they had never given her a satisfactory answer.

"He's safe. You'll see him soon," they intoned in unison, as if this was something they had practiced.

She briefly clenched her fists in frustration.

"What are you going to do to him?"

"We aren't going to do anything to him," one of the women said, her fingers combing through Alicia's long hair. She'd put significant pressure on the "we" part.

"He is the test. The trial. You are the reward."

* * *

When during the battle Troy'd seen black and been hit by something from behind, he'd anticipated it to be for the last time and that finally—like Jake, his mother, Jeremiah—he would understand what was waiting for them on the other side of this warped experimentation, and as always, internally he'd accepted it. Only that wasn't what happened, and for the second time that morning he woke up with raging headache. Troy didn't believe this one was as much drug induced as it was centered on a throbbing on the side of his forehead, an estimation he found he couldn't confirm or alleviate as his hands were tied behind his back.

His first thought was: _why the fuck hadn't they killed me?_ And his second, well, that was semi grateful and more urgent once his company came into view.

"Remind me again why you didn't want me to kill these people when we got here?"

Nick heaved a sigh, feeling like chuckling inwardly, but unable to perform it.

"Because all life is precious until you gotta fight for your own." He regarded Troy with lazy interest. "How come you haven't done it while I wasn't there to stop you?"

Despite the headache and their dire situation, Troy rolled his eyes. Was Nick shitting him? All life was precious until you fought for your own? What kind of shit had they been feeding him?

"Have you been stuck in this closet the entire time? Have you seen the amount of people out there? I hoped for a better outcome – to at least – kill half of them or maim them, but I saw your sister being led away to a car, assumed you were next and reacted. There wasn't much room for a decent plan. How come they haven't killed you yet? What's this ritual about? Can we get out of here?"

Nick stared at him awhile, his head spinning in failing attempts to catch up to the questions. Alicia… a car… what was going on and had they already started?

Nick winced, trying to focus. "There's enough of them. A small group of five chased us for an hour as we tried to escape. I made Alicia run as I stayed behind to slow them down, but I guess that didn't work. Nor did your solo rescue mission – nice job, by the way. How did you even find out?"

Pity Troy hadn't made it here in time when they were on the loose. The three of them might have stood a chance of overpowering the loonies and wiping them out. Troy still was going to when he got the chance.

"You're welcome," he stated as sarcastically as his praise was, bringing his legs up along his side, forcing himself to sit up so that he could attempt to free his hands of its unseen restraints. "Katie. The girl's a few screws short of actual sense."

That was the least of their concerns and he'd scarcely answered any of Troy's necessary questions.

"Where are they taking Alicia?"

* * *

Nothing happened for a long time. They seemed to just be waiting, but no one would tell Alicia what they were waiting for. The two men standing guard outside of the marquee were communicating with someone else through walkie-talkies, but she couldn't hear what was being said on either end.

Her nausea grew, and for a while Alicia was tempted to lie back against the pillows behind her. But she didn't, wouldn't allow herself. It made her all too vulnerable.

She fixed her gaze on a particular blue flower hanging from the ceiling, deciding to focus only on that to push the nausea and exhaustion to the back of her mind. She tried to pull Nick to the forefront, to keep the image of his face bright and clear before her inner eye, to take strength and courage from him. She needed to be strong. For her brother.

But something about that flower kept distracting her, stole all her focus. It shimmered with the strangest colors, transforming from blue to green and a hint of orange. That was strange. But it was beautiful and enchanting. She wondered what it would taste like. Would it be sweet like fruit? Or bitter? Was it poison?

She reached for it but it was too far away. The woman next to her smiled and took Alicia's hand in hers, lowering them to the ground between them. She hummed a melody that was soothing, but it sounded distant, as if her voice was trapped in a metal container.

Alicia blinked slowly and looked at her throat as she sang. So passed the next ten minutes.

* * *

Nick shook his head subtly. "They don't really like explaining shit. They said some weird stuff about the spirits and her being a conduit while I'm a key or something… The only thing that's clear to me is she won't like any of it. Nor will I." He reflected a moment, then added: "They loved finding out we're siblings. Something to do with blood. And that's also painting a vivid picture for me. They're gonna murder me and do some nasty shit to her in the name of some spirits. And then probably kill you, too." He regarded Troy. "Is there just one zip tie on you?"

Troy suspected the crazies were going to do all that gross shit and they were still sitting here talking about it? They should be gnawing through each other's restraints with their fucking teeth!

He tugged at his wrists, feeling for what he assumed was in fact zip tie biting into the abused flesh but Troy didn't care – only his head wouldn't allow him to flourish.

He nodded despite the strain.

Whatever they'd hit him with had produced quite the punch.

"When we get out here and I murder these people. We're going to confiscate their shit."

He kept trying though, gritting his teeth, threatening to grind them down and then stopped as a muscle tweaked painfully and threatened to seize into cramp.

 _Dammit!_

Using his shoulders and numbing fingers, Troy levered himself into a straighter position, brought his knees up beneath him and slowly started to crawl toward Nick, consequences be damned.

This was about timing, not eloquence.

Nick watched him struggle for a bit, then shook his head.

"Troy, just stop, listen to me. Hey, listen. Sit back, catch your breath, then find the zip tie end with your fingers and pull at it, tighten it. As much as you can."

Troy looked at him with surprise and disbelief. It amused Nick that he didn't know about that trick.

"It creates more tension in the lock," Nick explained. "The tighter, the better. When it's as tight as it gets, strain your arms, pull your elbows apart and break the tie. Won't be easy, but it's the only way."

The footfalls approached, the door opened. They stilled like two naughty kids caught at a cookie jar. It was the woman and another man waiting in the doorway. She came up to Nick with a syringe, and stuck it in his shoulder.

Troy flinched, but caught Nick's eye and luckily thought better of it. Nick couldn't shake his head or do anything but give Troy a short stare to make him play it cool and fool them. But deep down, Nick trusted he knew what and how to do. They needed to trust he was okay.

Nick's head started swimming, some weird weariness spilled through his body, his eyelids started to droop. He realized he couldn't fight it. There was no way, and that was the point. They didn't trust him being docile, anymore.

Before the world drifted away, Nick saw her check Troy's restraints to make sure.

"You be a good boy now," she told Troy, then gestured for her companion to get Nick when it was clear the sedative worked. There wasn't much time to waste, anymore. She felt a rush of excitement, as well as everyone else in their 'family'. She left Troy with a parting wink, as if it was some inner joke.

After another twenty minutes, their car parked between the trees. Through the trunks and shrubs, they saw the red tent.

"What now?" the driver asked, stepping out.

"The last preparation," the woman named Sarah said, jerking her head toward Nick. "Get him out there, to the fire."

The driver and another young man pulled Nick out and carried him after Sarah. They put him on the ground next to what was going to be a huge bonfire in the end of their fest, and stepped away.

"We're here!" Sarah called to the tent and stepped back with the men.

"Your brother is here. Do you want to see him?"

Alicia didn't know which of the women had spoken but nodded fervently anyway. Someone helped her to her feet and led her outside into the clearing. There were more people here now, and they all blurred together into an unidentifiable mass as they approached them.

There was a body on the ground next to a large pile of wood and it took Alicia a moment but she eventually identified him as Nick.

"Nick," she whispered, staggering forward, surprised that nothing held her back. No one was grasping her arms anymore and she was free to move. She lowered to her haunches beside him, one hand on the ground to keep her balance, the other nudging his shoulder.

"Nick. Wake up," she whispered again, annoyed that her brother was sleeping this moment away. Her voice sounded strange, magnified and loud, like through a microphone. "We have to leave, Nick."

He didn't stir. Didn't move a single muscle. An overwhelming sadness came over her then, and she cried silently, gently stroking his cheek to try and coax him to open his eyes, to look at her.

"Nick, please, please wake up."

Something happened but it was not what she had hoped for. Nick's face darkened as if a shadow had fallen over him. His skin rotted and peeled away in places, exposing tendons and teeth and bone. When his eyes snapped open, they were a milk-white. Empty.

Alicia screamed and threw herself away from him. Someone caught her, holding her close, keeping her from toppling over.

"What's happening?" someone asked. "What's wrong with her?"

"The energy of the spirits is overwhelming her," another replied. "She craves the blood, the release. It is time."

Alicia's legs were reluctant to move and whoever held her helped her along. She looked back over her shoulder, straining to see Nick, afraid of the sight that would meet her. But he was just Nick again. Just her brother. And they were taking him from her.

She screamed his name, over and over, but it changed nothing. He didn't wake. They didn't stop. And Alicia was taken back into the darkness of the tent.


	14. Chapter 14

**THE CHOSEN ONES — PART 4**

Even with the apocalypse underway and a lot of shit under his belt, Troy'd never been in this position before, never at the receiving end of what was supposed to be burdened with fear.

He absorbed Nick's advice and fixed a mistrustful look at the door as it swung open. He hadn't made it back to his spot. Fact that seemed to go unnoticed by the people who'd come in and fussed over Nick.

It took everything in Troy not to drive himself to his feet and ram them when he saw them inject Nick. Sure, Troy'd get one or two and it would hurt, but his hands were still tied and Nick appeared to be out of it completely.

 _No use._

He wouldn't be able to back Troy up.

Troy shook when the woman bent to check his restraints, not out of fear as Katie had done for most the day, but out of pure rage and a want to kill so strong it was practically blinding.

She muttered condescending praise and then left with her men and Nick.

The instant the door snapped shut behind them, Troy started to work on his wrists. He rolled onto his side, trying to contort his legs — his too long legs — through the loops created by his arms like a monkey, until eventually they were in front of him and he was able to grip the strip with his teeth and tighten it further.

It hurt like a bitch. Pain was just pain, though, once he was able to switch himself off from it and tune it out, it was easy to navigate around it and control.

Thankfully, Jeremiah had taught him that from an early age. One of the few useful life skills he'd gifted his black sheep son.

The rest was even harder, and for a time, Troy was sure his strength wasn't up to sniff; and then the hard plastic gave, snapping with a release that was adrenaline-charged and had him thank his friend in murmured prayer.

Troy jumped to his feet and peered out of the side of the grimy window. He didn't see Nick as he'd hoped and there only appeared to be one vehicle left. He could hear two voices outside but could only make them out partially as they spoke about what was to come and what was expected of the ritual's success once they'd cleaned up loose ends. Troy guessed they meant him. He was the loose end – the distraction.

He shifted from the window with a low growl, being careful not to shake the trailer or make noise as he moved around the room in search of a weapon with which to defend himself.

They'd taken his.

Before long, Troy dismissed the notion and opted to head out back, popping the latch on a window above an unkempt double bed at the back of the trailer facing toward the forest. He patiently waited to hear if they'd heard him, and then slipped out into the dirt, dropping into an immediate crouch that hurt his knee, crawling as he'd done before in search of the rifle he'd tucked beneath one of the trailers.

He hadn't been probing very long when an angry voice called out, "He's gone!"

"How the fuck can he be gone?!"

"The fuck must I know? Find him!"

Troy closed a hand around his rifle and smiled to himself maliciously as he crawled beneath the body of the trailer, undisturbed by what was probably housed under there. From his vantage point and as they rushed back and forth between the trailers, he could see that there was only two of them. And a dog. A Fido that they tried to use like a bloodhound but had no scent to follow.

Troy drew the .50 sniper rifle beneath his chin and zeroed in one of the men's ankles. He didn't hesitate to pull the trigger.

It blew as if it had never been part of the man's body and his scream tore through the air, stripping the silence, sending the dog he'd been holding onto in a frenzied howl of terror.

"Jesus Christ!" his companion yelled, the shock of his face unseen, his knees and legs barreling to grab his mate in a weak attempt to pull him to safety or where he suspected the bullet might have come from.

Troy pulled the trigger again, indifferent as he watched the second man's knee explode. Like the dog, the man howled, crying so long and so hard that if there were dead in the area Troy expected them to be on their way. Only the man didn't think like that and instead of thinking rationally began to shoot wildly.

Troy waited it out. The dog had run away.

When Troy heard the distinct click-click-click of an empty clip, he shuffled to the back of the trailer where he'd crawled in and slowly crept toward the two, rifle raised and centered on their chests.

The first one he'd shot had his gun up, while the other tried to reload. Troy pulled the trigger again and the first man's head exploded like a ripe melon. The second cursed and his features paled, his fingers fumbling to free up the clip on his gun. Troy rushed toward him, delivering a hard kick to his hand, sending the gun he'd been clutching skittering into the dirt.

Troy'd established that there wasn't anyone else with them but he immediately crouched anyway, weary that maybe the commotion would bring the sect back from wherever they'd run off to. Only no one else came.

"Where'd they take my friend?!" Troy hissed.

"Fuck you!"

Troy rose up on his haunches just enough to point the barrel of the rifle against the side of the man's temple, forcing him to look at his partner's splattered brains, practically pushing his nose into it like a disobedient dog who'd done his do on the carpet.

"You want to end up like that?"

The man went stiff and Troy let him go just enough to see the look of contempt in his eyes.

"Go fuck yourself!" the man spat.

 _Why are people just unwilling to cooperate today?_

Without thought or any cause for turning this into some stupid verbal debate and battle of wills, Troy flipped the gun and brought it down on the man's mangled leg like a club repeatedly.

* * *

Nick was gradually surfacing from the depth of some dreamless nothingness, awareness of his body being numb and cold seeping into him with every passing second. His pulse was beating in his temples, the light was too bright, even though he saw there was already pink in the sky shining through the canopies. The earthy smell of the forest soil and plants seeped into his nostrils, somehow becoming too strong. He tried to sit up, but his head swam dangerously. He lay back down, waiting it out. He felt biblically tired. As though there was not a moment in a month that he sat or lay down. Not a minute of sleep or rest. His head felt swollen and full of cotton candy, thick and sticky.

A branch cracked somewhere, making him jump. The sudden shock cleared his mind a little bit, spurring the thinking. This had to be it. The hunt. The final stage for him. There was an endless forest around him, no gaps, no clearings. Just an endless army of trees surrounded by bushes and shrubs and ferns.

Another branch cracked. Nick thought he heard a cough.

He had to move. He had to find a weapon.

A brief survey of the ground didn't bring him any good news. There were no sticks good enough, no rocks, nothing. He scrambled to his feet, staggered a few steps, wincing at how a twig snapped under his foot. He picked a direction and started walking. The tip of his shoe caught between some roots, almost sending him down on his fours. He balanced – barely – his arms flailing, and then he saw something that froze the blood in his veins.

It caught the evening light, gleaming silver amidst the fallen leaves. A bear trap.

They had put out bear traps. They had prepared the hunting grounds.

Swallowing hard, Nick turned to see a dog. It came out of nowhere behind him. It stopped, barked, then growled at him, its head lowering like that of an angry wolf. Nick slowly backed away and around the trap; the dog crept forward, getting angrier. There were people hurrying there. Nick could hear them coming. He had no time to linger, he had to run.

He jerked, pretending to be choosing a moment to dash away, and the dog barked, snarling, the drool dripping from the bared fangs.

He drew in a slow breath, his heart thrashing in his throat, and bolted. He didn't look back, but the metal snap and loud, panicked yapping said all he needed to know. He won this small round.

The next ones would only get harder.

Nick picked up his pace to put as much distance between himself and the voices behind him as possible.

* * *

They tried to make Alicia sit down once back inside the tent, but she refused, shaking their hands off her with an air of annoyance. Everything felt off, weird, like tiny electrical currents running through her body at random with no predictable pattern.

No one seemed to mind her wandering, but everyone else continued to stand as well, guarding, watching.

"What does it feel like?" the brunette girl asked, her eyes wide.

Alicia didn't know what 'it' was but felt as though she was the one supposed to provide answers.

"The floor is waves," Alicia murmured, gesturing to the ground because it seemed important that everyone understood. The waves were making her walk funny. She was uncertain where it was safe to plant her feet. No one else had the same problem.

"She is somewhere between our world and the next," a familiar voice said. They all turned to the entrance to look at who had just arrived. It was the older lady from before, the one with the deceivingly kind eyes. The leader.

She approached Alicia slowly, arms outstretched as though they were old friends about to embrace. Alicia backed away, lightly colliding with the makeshift altar in the center of the room. It was very pretty. And the fabric covering it was soft. She ran her hands over it, exploring, picked up one of the flowers, rubbed it between her hands. Nothing looked like how it was supposed to. Everything was bright and shiny, such vivid colors it was overwhelming to look at.

Alicia grabbed one of the red apples.

"Don't do that," someone warned, but the Leader held up her hand to still them, smiling at the Clark girl, encouraging.

"It's okay."

Alicia took a bite. The crunchy sound reverberated through her skull, making her feel as though she was chewing gravel. But the taste… It was glorious. She had never tasted anything so sweet. She ate greedily, moaning her enjoyment until the fruit, much like Nick's face earlier, darkened and changed. It rotted before her very eyes, squishy and worm-infested.

Alicia gasped in horror and let it fall to the ground. And then her thoughts were back on Nick. Nick. Nick _._ Everything was Nick.

They were going to kill him. They were going to kill her brother. And she had done nothing to stop them.

She was crying again, without sound, tears running freely down her cheek as she stared at the altar in front of her. At the flowers that were wilting, the rotten apples… and that shiny, sharp knife.

She snatched it and everyone around her tensed noticeably. Some looked angry. Others scared. They were all holding their hands out as if to soothe her, as if they were trying to talk her off a ledge. Alicia didn't like how they were closing in on her, so she brought the knife to her own throat, pressing it to the skin.

Everyone froze.

"I want Nick," she said, her voice trembling a little. "I want my brother."

"Child, put the knife down," the Leader said calmly. "Please, don't hurt yourself."

The men from outside had come in. They looked confused, not knowing where to point their weapons. The leader waved them down and they lowered their guns.

"I. Want. My. Brother," Alicia repeated, trying to focus her gaze on the Leader, but her eyes refused to fully cooperate.

The Leader nodded.

"Alright," she said. She was the only one moving now, and she did so very slowly, cautiously. "The spirits will lead you to him. Do you feel them? Hear them speak to you?"

Alicia frowned, searching her own senses. She felt something, for sure. But she didn't know what. And she heard… She only heard _green_.

"Do you see them?" The Leader gestured to the air around them and Alicia's gaze followed her movements, observing carefully.

And there they were. Like tiny fireworks without the frightening sounds. Colors sparkling in beautiful displays all around, dancing, twirling, soaring like birds.

Alicia smiled, then laughed, in awe at the near intolerable beauty the spirits were gifting her. "I see–"

The woman started forward suddenly, and Alicia's heart jumped in fright. The knife slid away from her throat and she held it out like a sword, burying it in the Leader's chest as the woman made to wrap her arms around Alicia. Instead, she stilled. As did Alicia. They stared at each other, both equally surprised, equally shocked. Blood soaked the front of Alicia's dress, unpleasantly warm against her skin.

Then the woman fell.

Everything happened very quickly. People burst forward to tend to their fallen Leader. Someone shoved Alicia out of the way and she landed hard on her side. It should have hurt her ribs, but it didn't. She didn't feel any pain at all.

Still clutching the knife in one hand, Alicia scurried away, drawing her knees to her chest as she watched people run to and fro the wounded woman, the mere chaos of it all making her head spin.

* * *

Troy was breathless when he stopped abusing the stranger's leg, a limb tenderized and hanging on by no more than bone. Troy had a lot of rage to work off.

"That doesn't look good," he reprimanded unsympathetically, turning the gun in his arms again, letting the handle rest on the ground between his knees like a crutch. The man stunk as he'd vomited on himself.

"Where. Are. My. Friends," Troy repeated and gripped the man's chin, providing him with a slap when his eyes rolled. The tears were falling and the prisoner was shuddering as he tried to breathe.

"F-fuck y-you," he choked out pathetically.

All things considered, Troy had to give it to him. The man had endured a lot and was still trying to hang tough. Troy lowered a hand to the man's leg and slipped his fingers into the open wound, ripping another scream from his victim.

"Oh, G-God! P-Please s-stop!"

Troy didn't and wouldn't until the guy gave him the information that he needed.

"T-They're a-at t-the r-red t-tent!"

"Red tent?" Troy repeated, stopping his assault but refraining from removing his fingers buried inside.

"Y-yeah," the man added, speaking past the tears and crack in his voice.

"Where can I find that?"

The man gazed at his broken leg and at Troy's bloodied fingers buried in the ugly gash. Troy's lips turned down in nonphysical gesture of a shrug and he removed them, wiggling his fingers in playful supplication.

"I-It's in the forest. Twenty minutes d-drive from h-here," the man stated, calming down, his own hand moving to apply pressure to the limb above the wound. He looked pallid and close to death.

"East? West?"

"South," he murmured, unable to keep from crying.

Troy eased the strap of the rifle back onto his shoulder, undid the belt on the man's pants, earning a look of fear and then confusion as he wrapped it around the tortured leg above the pus of flesh to stave the blood flow. The man winced and expelled another sound of pain as Troy secured the hook. When done, Troy broke away from him to retrieve their weapons and the bullets the stranger dropped during his struggle to reload. He slipped them into the gun, filling the magazine, sliding it into his pocket and then grabbed a hold of the man to hoist him off the ground. The man screamed at the sudden movement, begging Troy to stop, hobbling on one leg as Troy dragged him toward the awaiting vehicle and dumped him into the passenger seat.

The poor bastard looked ready to pass out.

"Hang on just a bit longer, bud," Troy ordered, patting him at the cheek roughly, shifting his legs clear of the door. The man's eyelids fluttered, his head lolled and whatever was still in his stomach came out in a gross swash of chunks.

Troy moved to the driver's side and set the rifle down in the middle against the man's leg. The man didn't have enough strength to use it against Troy and even if he did get his hands on the trigger, there would be nothing much he could do with it that would make a dent.

Troy drove around the trailer, past the dog cowering beneath it in much the same fashion he himself had earlier, and headed for the weapons he'd hidden in the trees.

They were still there as the group hadn't gone up that far.

Troy threw them in the backseat, gave the man another nudge and demanded him to stay awake, and then followed his whispered and broken directions to the tent.

* * *

The thickness of the forest turned out to be illusory. Very short-lived. Soon enough Nick ran out to a vast opening with just shrubs. He bent over, catching his breath, half wishing to just drop dead already rather than having to endure so much pain with every gasp of air.

It seemed to be a slope. He was at the base of the mountain. He estimated the lake could be on the other side of it. He couldn't be sure, but there was no time to dwell of guessing games. He had to move.

What wouldn't he give for one infected! If they had more dogs, it would have helped. If not – who knew, it could help, anyway.

He sucked in another meek breath and forced himself to run. It was getting harder up the slope, and the dust in his wake was reluctant to settle. He had to pick his steps and be careful to be closer to bigger bushes in case he needed to drop down and still.

And soon enough, he had to. One of the hunters ran out and surveyed the slope. Nick stilled on the ground, barely breathing. His pulse was so loud and nauseating in his very skull he thought he could pass out or get a nosebleed. The hunter started toward him, still looking around. The sun was setting to the west and didn't obscure his vision. He had a handgun on his belt, as well as a knife. But it was a crossbow cocked in his hands. Some weird instinct told Nick he wasn't aiming to kill him with one shot. They had some nastier plans. It was bad.

The bright side – if you could call it that – was that it was not a gun. And reloading took time. Nick had to dodge just one bolt, and then… Then, maybe…

The hunter crept closer, holding the weapon ready. His trajectory went past Nick with just some stupid few yards. Just a few yards of hope he wouldn't notice his prey.

He did.

Adrenaline shot up Nick's head, and he didn't know how he rolled out of the shot. He felt it wheeze past his side, touching his shirt. Nick flung himself at the hunter before he put the next bolt in. Although, the man was quick. Nick had to give it to him. He was yelling something, but blood was rushing in Nick's ears too loudly to make out anything other than white noise.

Nick socked him one in the jaw, then yanked the knife out of his sheath. The man swung his crossbow, catching Nick in the side of the head. Nick went down against the shrubs, seeing stars of sparkling pain.

High on adrenaline and despair, Nick saw the man's legs and dashed for them like a snake across the dusty ground, stabbing the knife into his calf.

The man cried out; Nick yanked the blade out and into the man's ribs. The hunter made a gurgling sound, dropping the hand with the crossbow, but gripping it still as he slumped against a bush.

Nick twisted the knife, pinning him down, then stabbed him in the chest. The man's eyes bulged; he emitted a wheeze with some weird questioning tone, and stilled.

Ignoring exhaustion, Nick pulled him off the bush and to the ground between the shrubs. He put on the hunter's belt, sheathed the knife, and tried the crossbow. It wasn't too heavy, but Nick didn't need to carry it around. He unclipped the arrows and continued up the slope.

Fighting the protesting pains all over his body and the agony in his chest, his mind went to Alicia. Nick wished that whatever they planned for her wouldn't start before the hunt was over. But he couldn't know it.

He shoved the arrows in one of the thicker bushes on his way up.

* * *

No one was paying attention to Alicia anymore. Even the men with the guns had rushed to their leader's side and left the entrance completely unguarded. It felt like a trick. Like someone would strike her down if she dared to try and make it outside. But Alicia made a dash for it, anyway. Everything was so loud inside the tent, there was shouting, crying. So suffocating she couldn't stand it.

She pushed herself off the ground and ran for the door.

Outside the air was cool and soothing. She breathed it in greedily and stumbled into the dark forest. She didn't run anymore, even if she felt she was supposed to. Because all of a sudden moving her legs became increasingly difficult. Like wading through water.

Alicia stopped and looked around, surveying her surroundings in the dark. The marquee was close. She could see it clearly from where she stood. But no one had yet emerged from it.

The knife was still clutched in her hand. She tried to let it go, but couldn't. Her fingers had stopped working. There was blood on her dress and on her arm. Lots of it. She reached out to touch it, smearing the crimson substance onto her skin. It was so pretty. In the dark it looked almost black. Shimmering with tiny sparkles. Like the night sky itself.

Her head fell back so she could admire the stars up above. They twinkled, winking down at her. She winked back. It was the polite thing to do.

"Drop the fucking knife!"

She turned to face the owner of the voice. It was one of the men from the tent. He looked angry. There was blood on his clothes as well. But they didn't sparkle. His gun was aiming at her legs. They always aimed at her legs. They didn't want her to die. Yet.

"I can't," she said truthfully, shaking her hand experimentally. Her fingers would budge.

He continued to aim his weapon her way as he closed in on her, and when he was close enough he grabbed her wrist with his free hand, squeezing so hard she thought her bones would break.

Like magic, her fingers unfurled and the knife fell to the forest floor.

He huffed a sigh of relief and locked his arms around her, hauling her back towards the tent with the gun pressed to her side. It seemed playtime was over.

Inside, the chaos had subsided. The Leader was propped up against a mountain of pillows, one hand clutching the place where her knife had hit her. It looked more like her shoulder than chest now. Someone had patched her up.

Despite everything, she was still smiling.

"The spirits are testing us," she said. "And we will be found worthy."

This time Alicia was forced onto the altar, and handcuffs fastened to the table-legs themselves were clasped around her wrists and ankles, keeping her prisoner. She didn't like it. She didn't like it one bit.

They were fifteen minutes into the drive and on the homestretch to this infamous red tent when Troy's prisoner faded out for the final time. He'd been in and out of unconsciousness the entire way, unable to take the jostling of the dirt road despite Troy's feeble attempts to keep him alert.

"Dude!" Troy yelled, pulling the car over just a couple of miles shy of the bend on the corner the man told him he'd have to veer off of. That's when it gets tricky, he'd said. "Wake up!"

Troy prodded him in the shoulder, pressed two fingers to his pulse and then punched him for extra measure, his head bouncing off the window, settling at an angle that would be killer on his neck if he wasn't dead.

Troy climbed out of the car, skimming the setting to make sure none of the thirty or so sect followers were lurking in the bushes or trees. The car wasn't so much a problem as Troy himself was. They were expecting these two, after all.

He opened the passenger door and yanked the body the rest of the way out and away from the wheels to roll it down the small incline into the foliage below.

Out of sight, out of mind.

 _Until he wakes up._

Who knew, maybe he'd be of some use, after all – eventually.

Not that Troy had twenty minutes to wait.

* * *

Nick's victim's body wasn't out of his sight before he was out of breath and in need of another break. Nick slipped on the ground, his legs crossed, horribly tempted to just lie down right there and let himself drift off to whatever fate there was after he did it. There was Alicia to find, and Troy, but there was also his body that was completely done with all his shit and wanted to pass out, period.

He also would kill for a sip of water. There was nothing of the sorts around, but if his estimation was right, on the other side of this stupidly high mountain, there might be water. Even if it was the lake he would have to get to. There was also the cabin. Henry.

He forced himself to get up. It was the hardest thing he had done that day. In the corner of his vision, there was something, and he sought it out.

Dust. A puff of dust behind the trees down at the base of the mountain he was trying to climb. It had to be a car. Nick looked back, up toward the top that had been his aim, then back down at the car. The odds were it belonged to the very people he was running from. He'd killed their dog, and another one of them, and they just might be done with his shit same way his body was refusing to follow orders. They might be starting to cheat the whole hunt idea with arrows and tracking. Nick was barely able to outrun a person, let alone a dog. And if it was a car, he could as well lie down under its tires.

The dust was settling. Seemed like the car had stopped. Nick began to walk down. It was blissfully easier, and he barely cared if they would spot and kill him. He relied on pure luck if he had any left about him. Being killed would also count for that.

Seeing no other than Troy at the car shocked Nick. He'd been doubting his sanity for a while now, but this was truly too lucky to be real. Nick trotted down the rest of the way – he hadn't done much progress up the slope, anyway – and raised his hands when Troy turned and almost pulled his gun on Nick.

"Hey, hey, it's me!" Nick bent to catch his breath, and looked at the body by Troy's feet. "Who's your friend?"

"One of the crazies. He was giving me directions to find you guys. He died." Troy peered over Nick's shoulder as he bent over, almost hopeful that his sister was behind him. "Didn't manage to escape with Alicia this time, huh?"

Unfortunate.

"Anyone else out there?" Troy asked retrieving his rifle, scanning the hillside. He didn't immediately see anyone but the hairs on the back of his neck were on end.

An instinctive warning that they could be watched from somewhere.

Troy gently nudged Nick toward the side of the car, where at least if they started shooting he'd be shielded by the frame.

Nick propped a hand against the hood of the car, taking a wary gander at the body – there was no wounds on his head – and back at Troy.

"There's a hunting party on my tail. I killed one, but there are many. I haven't seen Alicia. Do you know where she is?"

"She's at the red tent. Unless that's where you were running from? My guide only managed to get this far but he said it would lead off the corner of the road into the left."

Troy removed the gun with the newly packed clip and shoved it into Nick's free hand.

"If it moves, you shoot it. They don't give a shit about your life, Nick, and they don't listen to reason. Don't bother trying to talk them down. Just take care of it. Take care of Alicia."

Troy scuttled away from his side and moved to the back of the car to grab the weapons bag. Nick looked unsteady on his feet and Troy knew he could do with water, but if people were, in fact, after him, there wasn't time for that.

He needed to be vigilant and focused.

They both did.

Troy removed the loose rifle bullets and slipped them into his pocket, observing that they were the last and that he was going to have to find more.

 _The red tent._

It sounded ominous and just as fucked up as Nick's whole day was. He didn't want to get into associations and shoved the thought away.

He put the gun on the hood, unbuckled the belt with another one and the knife. After a moment's consideration, Nick pulled the gun from the belt, checked the ammo, and tucked it into the waistband on his back, covering it with the shirt.

"It's a big forest, we can wander here for a week and never come across any tent," he said. "She doesn't have a week. And they know where it is. I'll have them take me there, and you can follow."

Nick squeezed Troy's arm in a mute thanks, and started walking back the way he came. Back to where he thought the hunters were searching for him.

Troy knew time was of the essence and that it was the smart move to have the crazies lead them where they needed to go, but why had Nick been running to begin with? Had he not been at the tent? Did he escape or was this all part of their ritualistic game? How could he be sure they wouldn't just kill him?

Troy fought down the impulse to call out to him, to get him to stop and think about what he was doing, and then moved to his haunches next to the car, forcing himself to trust that Nick knew was he was doing. He sat with his back against the frame, the rifle poised at his side so he could keep an eye on his friend through the scope.

As soon as Nick was back among the trees, he felt he was going up a slope. He didn't notice that before, when he was running for his life, but could appreciate now that it was easier to do going down.

Now, however, it meant more effort from his body that was already screaming and begging to stop.

One of the hunters came out of the bushes, his crossbow trained on the boy. It happened too fast for Nick's tired brain to register properly, and it was just like they appeared in magic shows – out of nothing. At the same time, one more was behind him. In the back of Nick's mind, it occurred to him they were combing the forest in a line, possibly to squeeze him in the middle of a circle.

Nick dove sideways and rolled, dozens of painful firecrackers exploding in his bones and muscles as he did. An arrow wheezed and hit something in the spot where he was, either a tree or the ground. Nick pulled his gun, aimed without thinking at the figure behind him, and fired. It hit the man in the chest with a small red explosion. The man gasped and started falling back.

Nick turned to the other one, and he was already shooting his crossbow. Nick had no time to move, just jerk a little sideways as though struck by an invisible fist. The arrow cut a deep gash in his shoulder as it wheezed by. Nick fired; the man dropped the crossbow, gripping his stomach, slumping to his knees.

The one Nick shot first seemed still where he lay, so Nick went to the second one. The man trembled, his face sweaty. He was in his early twenties, and it was a damn shame. The same vision reflected in his eyes as it was in the women Nick saw in the trailer with Alicia: Nick was the rabid beast in need to be put down, not them.

"You… won't get away," the guy grunted, and flashed a surprising bloodthirsty smile. "They'll… get you… and her… it was… promised."

Nick pulled his knife out and stabbed it in his chest.

The guy's eyes bulged, he gurgled, blood spilling into his mouth and spattering his lips. Nick pushed him to fall on his back; he slipped off the blade as he did. He sobbed once, twice, and stilled.

Refusing to dwell on any thoughts, too tired to do it, anyway, Nick picked up his crossbow with four bolts, then took more from the other dead fella. Nick left the guns for Troy to get if he followed, and trotted off, further toward where he ran from an hour ago. He thought of the guy he killed on the slope. He must be up by now. Nick should have told Troy about him, but on the other hand, there was enough space between them for Troy to see him first.

* * *

It wasn't long before Nick was surrounded, and before Troy could comprehend what his friend was doing, Nick rolled and shot someone. Then another. Troy had no idea when to mediate and before he could give into the instinct to floor the guy who'd nicked Clark with the arrow, Nick had taken care of it himself.

Only, if Troy didn't know any better, he'd have thought Nick was playing with them.

Troy glanced behind him to make sure none of these so-called hunters had spotted the vehicle and decided to investigate why it was parked in the middle of the road unattended. That would have been the smart thing to do – the practical thing – in a war zone. Troy assumed that Nick heading back toward them threw everyone off guard.

Troy followed after him and kept at a safe distance to not be spotted.

More men appeared from the treeline to cut Nick off, stepping into the fray like gutless cockroaches. Troy could see the satisfaction on their faces, the victory, and toyed with the idea of wiping it off their mugs. He knew that if he pulled his trigger, the noise from his gun was far greater than that of a simple handgun and that if they were, in fact, close to the red tent, they'd give themselves away.

Although it killed him, Troy waited to see if Nick could handle them and then collected the weapons left behind on the two bodies he'd tended to first. Both were dead and would be back in less than twenty if Troy's calculations were correct; he could already hear another whining nearby like a hungry dog.

He was being drawn by the gunfire.

After a quick glance at the scenery at his feet and the singular figure trying to navigate the mountain, it wasn't hard to figure out what Nick was trying to do and why he'd intentionally avoided the final killing blow.

He was raising himself an army.

Troy smirked with pleasure at the realization, raised his gun again and continued on, sticking close to the trees once it started becoming denser and easier to hide.

* * *

While Nick waited for the next hunter to find his way to him, he caught his breath a little and studied the crossbow. It wasn't too hard to shoot and hit the target - not much harder than a rifle, he imagined - but the reloading was what got the previous men he had killed. Nick had one shot with each he was going to meet. He couldn't afford to screw it up.

He did a bit, however, hitting the next man in the right shoulder. The hunter cried out, but didn't drop his crossbow and took aim, grimacing as he did.

Nick dropped his and pulled the gun, ducking on one knee. The bolt went over his head; his bullet left the man's intact, busting in his solar plexus in a splash of red.

The man was still alive when Nick came up to him, trying to say something. Nick didn't extend the courtesy to listen, stabbing him dead in the heart.

His legs were shaking, threatening to give in when Nick straightened up and looked at the bloodied knife.

So tired. So tired he felt a bit of envy for the fallen men. They could rest. They didn't care. They were done.

Nick made to yank the arrow out, but then didn't. If he saw the blood on it, he was going to be sick.

He picked up his claimed crossbow and turned to go... and froze.

Another dog was barking, calling out to its human masters where to find him.

Nick's hand weighed a ton when he produced the gun. He hated it. Hated himself. Hated the dog that had to come here and added poison to his already impossibly shitty day.

When it darted for him, Nick took it down and walked by, his jaw aching as he tightened it.

* * *

As easy as it was to hide, it wasn't easy to stay that way. Nick was fighting but he was taking a lot of strain and it would only take one person with extra strength to take him down for good.

If that was their aim.

Troy couldn't tell at this point. Nick wasn't giving him the space to figure it out and they weren't holding their punches.

Even so and despite the numbers, he was doing a decent job. Not that Troy was shocked. He'd noticed that potential in Nick a long time ago. Even if Nick downplayed it and pretended that it wasn't there.

'It's not a negative, Nick, poets kill the same as any other.'

When he put down the dog and started moving again, Troy cast a look behind him to make sure the dead that had been trying to waddle his way up the incline was still trying. And he was. Only now he had company. _Hm._ That was new and definitely faster than most.

 _Maybe it's because they were thinner?_

Troy shook off the urge to dissect, the macabre interest, and started after Nick again, grabbing a handful of rocks and anything with some weight to throw at the dead, forcing them to stay in tight and in motion.

* * *

Nick took a bit to the right when he felt the slope was getting tougher. Perhaps that red tent was on the top, or somewhere close to it, which he doubted. They had plenty of time to find the perfect spots, and he was certain they had.

He found a nice hiding spot behind a thick, dry, fallen tree and allowed himself to crouch behind it waiting for the footfalls to come closer. There were two of them, conversing in hushed voices. He didn't hear what they talked about, nor cared much. It was to his advantage that they didn't seem to spot him yet. It was a bit far for a crossbow, he presumed as he aimed, but he had little to no choice in the matter. He wasn't going to come out before at least one went down.

A part of him was scared he couldn't force himself to get up at all. He was pushing his limits even before he went back in his tracks after meeting Troy.

His arrow managed to pierce the hunter's side. He stared down at it, bewildered, automatically gripping it to pull out, but then the pain caught up, and he uttered a cry of mixed hurt and anger. The other one's eyes had already settled on the tree Nick was hiding by when Nick reloaded and raised the crossbow again.

The hunter shot first; Nick jerked sideways, almost falling on his ass. The arrow sliced another gash in his already bleeding shoulder, maybe deeper this time. It was like a red-hot rod pressed to his skin. Nick hissed and raised the weapon, aiming while the man reloaded. He was quicker, more experienced.

Nick's bolt missed entirely, and the hunter was already cocking his crossbow to shoot. Nick rolled behind the tree, pulling the gun. He probably had one or two bullets left, but that wasn't the worst part. It was the sound. However, at this moment, the odds of not doing it were worse.

Nick lay on his back along the trunk, waiting. The crossbow emerged, the hunter's face sweaty and red with adrenaline and impending triumph. Nick's first bullet hit the weapon in the man's hands, sending the arrow wheezing past Nick's temple in half an inch. Nick's second shot hit under his throat.

The man made a "gah" sound and went down.

Nick dropped his head, willing himself to get up. He felt like he was about to pass out.

There were more coming, he practically felt it in the ground beneath him. He could hear the steps, the voices, even the dogs barking, like it was some royal hunt and somehow the times had crossed in this damn forest under the rapidly darkening sky. The rational part of him knew it was not real. But it spurred him up.

Nick peeked around the trunk, and immediately an arrow struck the wood next to his face, splinters flying. When he rose from the crouch, the wounded man sitting against a tree emitted an exasperated sound. But Nick could see he was scared to die. He knew this was the end of the road, and his shots missed. He had no energy to reload, his hand still squeezing the trigger on the crossbow, his other pressed to the wound around the arrow sticking from his side. Blood oozing into the white sweatshirt.

"You son of a whore," he said through gritted teeth. "You'll die, they'll catch you and your blood will spill all over her, and you'll be sorr—"

The shot was deafening. It thundered in Nick's skull long after his eyes rolled. Nick tossed the gun. His crossbow was left lying behind the fallen tree. Nick didn't need them, anymore.

The next clearing, he remembered. The dead dog still lay caught in the bear trap. He had no time, there were footfalls of at least two others somewhere close by.

Hissing with effort, Nick pushed the trap jaws apart and shoved the dog's carcass away. He released the trap and dragged the dog into the bushes. Then picked a spot close to where the trap had been initially and lowered on his knees, pushing the trap apart again. He remembered from somewhere that those traps were supposed to just hold the animal. Either way, his plan was flawed and rotten, but the only one he had.

Gritting his teeth as he held the trap open, Nick put his leg in, and as gingerly as he could, he let the trap close. The metal teeth pressed painfully into his calf, but it was nothing compared to what would have happened if he stepped into an armed one.

He settled on the ground and cried out faking pain. Partially, it wasn't really faking.

It was a hunter in his thirties who came out to see him. He aimed the crossbow at Nick approaching, a gloating grin stretching over his face.

"Well, well, look at that," he teased, finally cocking the crossbow to his shoulder aiming up. A small comber of relief brushed through Nick. "Not so smart now, are you? Not so fast, either. And know what? I got my prize."

He crouched, gripping at the trap's jaws, then looked Nick in the eye, his smile slipped off. He pushed the trap halves into his leg slowly, enjoying Nick's pained grimace.

"If you make me shoot you and lose my clean win, I'll make sure you regret being born before you die, you got it?"

"Take it off, I won't run," Nick grunted honestly. "I can't run anymore."

"Good," the man said, and pushed the jaws open.

Nick barely faked the limp when the man led him, holding a blade to his back to sink it in his kidney if Nick jerked, his other hand gripping Nick's shirt on the scruff, pushing him forward. They met another hunter who seemed bitterly disappointed. He pulled a gun and shot three times up. A signal. He accompanied them back.

* * *

The altar beneath Alicia was uncomfortable. So were the metal cuffs around her wrists and ankles. But they were nothing compared to the horror of what was happening around her.

There were people here, not the unfamiliar ones from before, but others. People she knew. Had known. They were wandering the tent, looking at her with empty, hollow eyes, their skin peeling and rotten.

Matt. He was the first one she saw. She barely recognized him. His whole jaw was missing, his tongue hanging down his throat like a macabre dead slug.

And there was Travis, his stomach open, bowels pooling out of the gash on his abdomen.

Jake stalked in the background, a bullet wound oozing blood right between his eyes.

There were others too. The people from the cellar. Liza. Chris. Dad.

He was right by her side, staring down at her, his face crushed, his neck twisted in a horrible and impossible angle.

Alicia wept, trembling so violently the table itself shook.

When the women from before came to release her, when they brought her out of the tent and away from the dead, she was grateful.

There was a bonfire outside. Big and bright like the sun itself, and she marveled at how much beauty there still was in this world.

Then the Leader was in front of her again. She gave her the knife Alicia had hurt her with before. Someone had cleaned it. Alicia's fingers wrapped around its handle and she tried to follow the direction the Leader was gesturing. There were more men here now than there had been before. They were smiling at her, but their faces held no warmth.

* * *

There was truly a red tent. It looked ominous as hell. The same disappointment Nick read on the guards' faces. The three armed women also guarding the tent seemed happy. The fire was already tall and crackling loudly.

More women came out of the tent, all wearing white dresses that hinted on some medieval pagan style, there were red blotches on some. A spike of worry went through Nick's mind, especially when they led Alicia out. Her front was soaked in dried blood, but as she was led closer, Nick thought it was probably someone else's. Which was still bizarre.

Alicia seemed scared and disoriented. Not herself. Was it shock? Nick never saw her in a shock like that. But they had never been on a sacrifice before where they had to be the ones cut down.

When two young girls emerged from the tent leading a middle-aged woman, Nick realized whose blood it had been. Her shoulder was wrapped in some bloodstained fabric, but there was a blissful smile on her face when she saw him.

"Finally we get what we have been promised, my dear ones," she announced, gently pulling her arms from the girls' hold. She staggered a little, but her smile never faltered.

Nick realized her smile scared him more than all the hunters that had been trying to shoot him all this time. There was no space for any reasoning in that smile. It was the walking doom. No other truth than theirs would be allowed.

One of the women placed a knife in her hand. The handle was fancy, glistening with orange specks of fire raging behind Nick's back. A double-edged ceremonial dagger, no less.

Two women placed their hands on Alicia's shoulders, one of them wrapped a hand around his sister's wrist, guiding her hand to accept the knife the older woman who had to be the leader of this madness offered.

"Go ahead, child," the smiling leader said tenderly, stroking Alicia's hair. "Release him. Set him free and welcome the spirits. They will set you free."

"Oh god," Nick breathed, both scared and disgusted, as he watched Alicia's face, wondering if she even saw him, or knew who he was. Her face was a kaleidoscope of emotions that barely made sense to her mind.

"Go on," the Leader said once more and someone gently nudged Alicia toward one of the men. He wasn't smiling at all. He was scared. _It was Nick._

She staggered towards him until she was right up close. No one stopped her. No one got in her way.

At first she was filled with elation at the sight of him, comforted, soothed, but… he looked awful. So tired, even worse than when she and Madison had hunted him down in the gutter after he'd ODed.

She started crying again, silently, and whispered: "Nick? Are you dead?"

Could he be? Was this all a trick? Were they just trying to break her heart?

Anger rose in her like a stoking fire, her expression changing from one of sorrow to pure hatred.

"Release him, child," the Leader called from behind her, her voice excited. "Do it now!"

Anticipation moved through the crowd like an electrical current as Alicia raised the knife. They were hungry. They wanted blood. And she'd give it to them.

Like before, she brought the blade to her own throat and turned to face the older woman, screaming her rage.

"Give me my brother! NOW!"

* * *

Watching Nick take care of everything and then set himself up to get caught made Troy feel helpless. Madison was bad and as Troy'd come to learn it was best just to pull the pin on her, but her son was revealing himself to be an entirely different class of viper. As he settled the bear trap around his ankle and played the damsel in distress, Troy genuinely felt pleased they were on the same side. Not that he hadn't before. Like a father witnessing his son's first homerun or a friend helping another friend get laid. Troy never had the chance to share in any of those moments but he assumed that, for the spectator, it felt oddly close to pride.

The dead groaned behind him and, for a moment, they tripped over one another like three babies. Not for the first time in as many months, Troy was forced to wonder what kind of sick joke the man upstairs was playing. How was it that these things, these clumsy bastards struggling to right themselves, teeth clamping at air in attempt to eat his flesh through inches of hollow space was somehow responsible for the downfall of humanity?

He rolled his eyes and pelted another stone in the middle of one of their foreheads.

Their frenzy started anew, giving them more energy, allowing them to grip at the uneven surface and to find a slight medium of traction as they chased him. Troy stayed one step ahead of them at all times, stopping when they struggled in part to help them up the rest of the way and to make sure they kept pace with Nick and his captors.

When he reached the outskirts of the red tent, he was only five minutes behind, six wasted stronger and Alicia was screaming, distracting the people circled around her like hyenas, most demanding that she set Nick free.

While Troy tried to get a decent look of what was happening, one of the wasted had shuffled up behind him and attempted to take him down. Troy brought up a knee and shoved him away, kicking him toward the back of the pack, watching as he sailed like superman and lost half of his face to the fine grit.

It didn't slow him down much.

Troy side-stepped the rest of the troop fluidly, no longer making racket as he did before, nudging them away when and if they got too close, letting them be taken by the noise coming from the mob like steady flowing tide.

They were no longer interested in Troy.

No sooner did one take a bite out of their first victim, no sooner did Troy slink to the ground and follow it up by putting a hole in one of the sect members, using the trees and the frenzy of the dead as a means to camouflage.

* * *

It wasn't just shock, Nick reckoned. The more he watched her closely, all the buzzing crowd of people falling away to the back of the scene, the more he saw she was on something. Something heavy. It didn't seem to be a pill, unless they found some LSD. He had no time to skim through options, however.

He didn't even have it in him to respond when she asked whether he was dead. Such horror and grief that reflected on her face, he had never seen in her before. It was so profound it scared him even more. He felt the air whoosh out of him as though he went down a rollercoaster loop. He only found his voice when she put the blade to her throat, threatening the women.

The smile dimmed on the leader's face, she raised her hands to calm Alicia, but Nick's sister was too deep into hysterics. She didn't see two guards behind her, and they twisted her knife-wielding hand away from her throat and turned her back to Nick.

His pulse jumped as he realized they were going to force her hand, and – high or not – it would stay with her if they succeeded. Whatever he would say now, though, would be lost in the haze or heard wrong. She looked too unfocused and shocked for him to hope for clear perception.

He drew in a sharp breath, wincing at the orange splash running across the blade like a sunlight blaze. The tip pricked his chest when the first scream pierced the evening, and the crowd worried like a stormy wave. The leader pulled Alicia away from Nick and closer to the tent as the white-dress women bunched around them like bodyguards.

One of Nick's guards rushed toward the screams; someone started shooting. The dead wheezed and roamed among the living, arms stretched and grabbing, teeth clattering and seeking flesh to sink in.

The man who stayed to keep Nick kicked his boot into the backs of Nick's knees, making him fall on them. The cold muzzle of his gun pressed into the side of his neck.

"What the fuck is this," he muttered, his hands shaking – either urged to take action, or out of fear. "What the fuck is this…"

Nick felt lightheaded. The fire blazing, all the screaming and shooting made his head hurt. The volume was shifting from low to loud in his head, and he felt sick. He felt tired. He felt like the reality was wobbling around him.

* * *

All Alicia knew was that the women were too close to her, making it hard to catch her breath. She was suffocating and needed to get away. She pushed against them but they didn't budge.

The Leader tried to wrap an arm around her and Alicia shook her off, slashing ahead of her with the knife still clutched in her grasp. The women broke ranks as the blade carved into flesh. Alicia couldn't tell which of them she had struck or how badly they were wounded but she didn't waste her chance at freeing herself, slipping through the newly open gap.

"Benjamin! Get her! Keep her safe!" The Leader shouted over the eruption of noise.

A new set of arms locked around Alicia from behind, hauling her away from the mass of people, one hand secured around her throat, the other peeling her fingers open and forcing her to relinquish the hold on the knife.

"Matthew, bring the boy! The ritual must be completed!" The Leader commanded again as the brute called Benjamin wrapped his other arm around Alicia and turned as if to defend her body with his from potential stray bullets.

* * *

There was chaos and blood everywhere.

A sight that Troy'd have reveled in in the past and absorbed to the fullest until he was drunk and giddy – only now the outcome was different. He'd never had anything to lose before.

Jake had rarely been involved in these scenarios.

Troy searched and found both his people amongst the mob, one of which got swallowed by a crowd of women who were weaponless, wide-eyed and acting like a human shield against the dead. The way they fought, smacking at the thrashing bodies trying to claw at their flesh, Troy could tell that, as a whole, they hadn't dealt with the wasted much and hadn't learnt their weaknesses.

Another advantage. However temporary. They couldn't all be idiots or that far gone into the insanity – someone – somehow was going to deliver a hit and the light was going to click on.

Troy focused, found Nick, and pulled the trigger, popping the man named Matthew's head like a zit. He waited a beat, made sure Nick was okay and wouldn't fall victim to one of Troy's cannibalistic soldiers, and then scrambled to his feet, reloading, using the trees as line-backers, keeping an eye on the leader and the grizzly bear holding Alicia.

The bordering dead turned to Troy, engrossed by the gunfire and its lingering energy.

Without pause Troy delivered a hard kick to his chest and sent him sprawling. The dead awkwardly scrambled to his feet and like a kid took immediate interest in the nearest attraction.

One of the girls who'd been caught by Alicia's flailing knife. She was gripping her forearm, trying to stave the bleeding and then she was screaming, bits of flesh being ripped from her neck and stomach with cruel desperation. Someone tried to save her, to shove the dead, and they, too, got caught, snared by this unfailing trap that was easily navigated like human dominos.

Troy raised the gun and prepared to kill the man holding Alicia captive when suddenly something or someone slammed into him, knocking the rifle from his hands and his body to the ground. Ignoring the pain, Troy scrambled forward on hands and knees and turned around to receive the person who'd tackled him again. Kicking and punching, using everything that was around from sand and rocks to fight dirty.

* * *

A shot rang right over Nick's head, exploding in echo inside his skull. The muzzle on his neck jerked and fell away.

Like a man in a dream, Nick looked down and saw it in a loosened grip of a corpse. He took it and forced himself to get on his feet. His head was splitting, his muscles screamed agony, and everything around him danced in weird blinding colors, blurry and bright like some devil's party.

He tried to focus, seeking anything familiar in the raging crowd of the dead chasing the living and adding more to their numbers as they did. Two were wrestling in the dirt, punching and kicking and rolling, and not three yards away, there was a dead man waking up. The fighting couple was what spurred him to move faster.

Nick's hand with the gun was too heavy. There was no way he could lift it. No. Freaking. Way.

He looked at the fire that seemed to have grown taller and louder, a blaze of hell itself, and released a shaky exhale. It was getting harder to put the pieces of thoughts together to make sense of whatever was going on in his head. He didn't know it, but it was the advantage – the only one, the last one he was going to have that night.

He turned and took down the dead before he could place himself the third on the squabbling duo. The corpse fell on them, nonetheless, in a splatter of brain and blood. They jerked apart for a moment, and Nicks glimpsed Troy. His next bullet went through the neck of the other one.

Nick turned to the screams behind him. A hulk of a man struggled with one of the girls… and she had Alicia's hair. Alicia's face.

Nick trained his gun on him. The hulk snarled, his bear-hand squeezing Alicia's throat as he held her against him like a shield.

"Drop the gun, you shit," he commanded. "Or you'll hit her. We don't want that, do we. She's way too nice to die, ain't she. Drop it. Now."

His own gun lowered to her thigh.

"I'll shoot," he said. "No kiddin'. No leg – better access." He sneered lewdly.

Nick saw he wasn't joking. It was not a thought but an instant knowing, an instinct of reading body language, as ancient as people themselves. He had no more capacity for thoughts. Or stamina – that was an alien concept, altogether. Nick would lower the gun, and chances were he wasn't raising it again.

Alicia's eyes were full of terror and fire. Her face a mask of dancing orange that gleamed in her tearful eyes.

Nick dropped his hand and watched the hulk take an aim at him. Deep down, Nick welcomed any rest that was coming after the muzzle flared.


	15. Chapter 15

**THE CHOSEN ONES — PART 5**

Benjamin's hands on Alicia were too rough. He seemed to have none of the gentle kindness the other people here had shown her in their own strange way. She knew there should have been pain from her already bruised throat and head, but she felt nothing. As if she had ascended to a state of being where pain was no longer an issue. And that helped. But his hands… they roamed her body in a mad frenzy, seeming to multiply the more he trespassed, covering every inch of her as if he had the right to do so. As if she belonged to him.

Alicia didn't understand how it happened, but like in a nightmare, the person behind her was no longer Benjamin. It was a different man entirely. Older. Smaller. But someone who frightened her much more.

Proctor John.

"You're coming with me to Texas, aren't you?" he whispered.

She shook her head fervently, her heart racing, tears welling in her eyes for what must have been the hundredth time today.

"Oh yes, you are," John continued in that dangerously soft voice of his. "Because if you don't your family will suffer. I'll kill them. Starting with your brother."

He raised his gun and pointed it in front of them, at someone who had been approaching without her noticing. _Nick_.

No, no, no…

"I don't want to…" she whispered pathetically, which only made John tighten his hold on her throat until she could barely breathe. Instinctively, she clawed at his hand, but it seemed to make no difference.

"You will. Either way. You belong to me, Alicia Clark."

He cocked his gun, readying it, and she panicked.

She reached behind her, between the two of them, and found his crotch, squeezing him as hard as she could with her fingers. He yelped, either in pain or surprise, and reared back, firing the shot up into the sky.

* * *

The extra weight from the second body landing on top of the man who'd been trying to bury his knife in Troy's gut surprised them both, temporarily driving the fight in his favor and the blade through Troy's side. Troy expelled a gasp of hurt and wrenched the handle from the man's unexpectedly slack hand, blood soaking Troy's face and neck as he ripped it from his body, his eyes rolling.

Troy shoved the both of them off, scrambling from beneath them, ignoring the sting in his side and the warm blood he could feel soaking into the waistband of his pants.

The man wasn't a threat anymore.

Troy picked up the rifle, seeking Nick and Alicia amongst the frenzy of living and dead. More had risen, making him think that maybe this red tent did in fact have some weird supernatural energy source.

But the group hadn't lost just yet and were still inelegantly holding the dead off.

Troy zeroed on the man aiming his gun at Nick, saw his face contort with pain as Alicia did something, and his bullet go high. Troy pulled the trigger. The man's shoulder exploded and half his neck and a quarter of his face disappeared. Troy took out the dead around them, attracted by the racket they were making defending themselves, stopping only once he used the last bullet and was forced to set the rifle aside on the ground.

Troy jumped into the weave of disarray, slashing at the living preoccupied with the wasted, working his way through the bodies for the woman he had seen screaming her demands and struggling to maintain her poise.

* * *

Like in some crazy movie sequence, the hulk's shoulder busted a shower of blood and bone, he started to cant back. Nick pulled Alicia to him, hugging her as they backed away from the tent.

The leader woman's voice reached him, but Nick could not make out the sense. He didn't care. He was trying to find Troy. It was close to impossible in the mess that was like some ancient orgy of blood and gore around a bonfire. More bodies were on the ground rather than still on their feet, but shots still fired.

There was a figure waving a knife in another scuffle that Nick recognized.  
"Troy!" he called. "We should go! Now!"

Nick felt his body was giving in little by little, as if dying in parts because die at once it couldn't afford. He felt no more pain in his arm, but it was as heavy as a whole world. He raised the gun and took a shot, anyway. It hit someone's arm, and the swing of a machete that was going to nick Troy went into another arch as the body fell down.

"Troy!" he yelled again. Troy looked at him. Nick had no energy to convince, and even through his haze, he saw Troy's bloodthirst at full play.

From the corner of his eye, Nick saw movement, and turned to face it, automatically pushing Alicia behind him. Three women in white were on him, clutching at his arms, wrestling the gun from his fingers. And the older woman was approaching, a knife in her hand. Nick couldn't tell if it was the same dagger or not, but felt the same kind of helpless exhaustion he had when the blade was in his sister's hand.

He squeezed the trigger; the gun fired, and one of the girls squealed falling down. Her skirt was becoming dark with blood as she wailed on the ground like a scared hyena.

The leader woman didn't even flinch. One of the two girls hung on his arm, clutching at his hand on the gun, making it impossible to shoot again. The older one raised the knife.

"The ritual should be completed," she hissed, a ghost of the smile she displayed before her little paradise went to hell touched her mouth.

* * *

Proctor John's head exploded and sprayed Alicia with warm blood, his hold on her instantly faltering. And suddenly she was in Nick's arms, being pulled away once more. While moving everything was too confusing, shapes and colors merged and blended together until she couldn't even be certain if she was really awake anymore. Maybe she had died and this was some sort of hellish afterlife where everything was chaos.

Nick pushed her away suddenly and Alicia had to take hold of her head to keep the world from spinning wildly, closing her eyes to try and ground herself and keep her mind from floating away in a foggy haze.

"The ritual should be completed."

Those words rang inside her skull, bounced around like a tennis ball until all she could hear was the same monotone sentence over and over.

She opened her eyes to see Nick wrestling with two girls, and a third advancing on him. It was the Leader. The Head-Bitch. She had found Alicia's knife and seemed intent on slashing it across her brother's throat.

No thinking was needed. If this was a nightmare, it was _her_ nightmare, and Alicia got to decide how it ended.

She ran at the woman, driving her shoulder into the leader's wounded one and knocking them both over. The Leader groaned in pain and Alicia from nausea, feeling as if she was about to throw up. But there was no time for that. They grappled for the knife, and when it became clear the Leader would win, Alicia drove her fingers into the wound she had inflicted on the woman earlier, clawing and squeezing at the flesh until the woman was forced to relinquish her hold on the blade to try and fight Alicia off.

Alicia dove for the weapon, pressing her knee to the woman's throat, practically climbing over her in the mission to reclaim the knife. And she did. She grasped it by its sharp edge, unable to reach the hilt, and turned to slam the blunt end against the woman's temple. The Leader cried out again, but didn't still.

Fumbling to turn the knife the right way round while the woman squirmed beneath her, she finally managed in her task and drove it into the woman's skull.

The Leader's eyes were wide open, and they remained like that. Glassy and dead.

Alicia watched her a long time, mindless of the deep cut to her palm and that she was adding more blood to her clothes. The dead woman's eyes were just so pretty. Shining like pearls. Someone should have made them into a necklace.

* * *

Nick's voice was temporarily lost on Troy and then it wasn't, blaring through the crowd like a horn, driving Otto into motion, an arm coming up to shield his abdomen from the swinging machete. Only it clattered to his feet like a gift. Wasting no time, he bent to retrieve it and swung it upward, catching the man between the legs, a malicious smirk touching the corner of Troy's mouth as he forced it into a deeper arch, taking every ounce of vengeance out on this one figure. He didn't split like he might have in one of those overly dramatic Jason horror movies where the guy had some weird supernatural hulk strength, but something did happen. His guts filled his pants and spilled between his legs like macabre tinsel.

He dropped and cleared the way to another scene. Alicia on top of the lady Troy had been pursuing.

Troy started toward them hurriedly, intending to help her and getting there just as she plunged the knife into the woman's skull.

Unlike war stopping once you cut off the king's head, this battle seemed only to intensify while the team morale dwindled away into nothingness.

The whole fact went over Alicia's head as she stared down at the body beneath her.

Troy frowned, unsure of what was going on, and made to grab her shoulder, to get her to her feet, to get her moving and away from what would soon be an all-out homage to the wasted. She didn't come easy, unable to read the encouragement, her eyes almost as glassy as the woman she'd killed.

 _Is she high?_

"Alicia. Move!" Troy snapped, hopeful that might be enough to spur her into action, free hand glued to her arm while simultaneously trying to get to Nick.

* * *

Alicia, Troy, the girls still hanging on his arms like dead weights… All spun around Nick, making him nauseous. The fire flashed in his face like some blinking light aiming to drive him out of his mind completely.

Troy's voice blaring next to him shoved him out of his incoming blackout, holding it back enough for Nick to scrape the remaining strength and jerk his arms to free himself from the girls. They scurried to their fallen leader, weeping, and neither had the time to run when one of the dead swooped in on them. His teeth found one's shoulder while another screamed like a fire alarm.

Wincing, Nick caught Alicia's arm again while her other was in Troy's grip.

"We need to go now," he called to Troy, this time seemingly reaching Otto's understanding.

It was much darker among the trees, but it felt better on Nick's tired eyes. Only now he wanted to let them close thousand times as bad. He no longer knew how his legs kept moving and placing one foot ahead of the other, how they still managed to trot away, and soon the cacophony of screams was a faint memory behind their backs.

The trio reached for the opening and went along the slope, moving toward where the car had to be. It took them forever, but they found it. The body Troy had dropped beside it earlier today was gone.

The boys helped Alicia to the backseat, closed the door, and Nick leaned against it, catching his breath. His vision got better after the dark of the woods, and the moonlight was bright enough. The crazies had picked an almost full moon for their ritual.

* * *

Alicia looked down at her bleeding hand, fascinated by the gash oozing blood without the normally accompanied pain.

 _Definitely a nightmare. Can't be real._

She pressed her palm to the cool window and watched it get smeared with crimson, hoping to see the same pretty colors and sparkles from before. But they didn't appear this time. It was only dark. And that darkness grew and closed in on her. It was going to swallow her whole.

She closed her eyes and covered her ears with her hands, murmuring, "You gotta wake up. Wake up, Alicia."

* * *

Nick regarded Troy, noticing that he wasn't all that perky, anymore, his hand pressed to his side.

"You okay? Please tell me you didn't get bit."

Troy's fingers dabbed at the wetness like a lazy nurse. He didn't have to see the wound to know that he was going to need a few stitches.

"I'm fine. It's just a scratch," he replied.

Nick didn't believe it was, but they needed to get to some sort of safety before starting to lick their wounds.

* * *

Despite the moonlight, Troy couldn't make Nick out in the dark but he could remember that Clark looked like shit and like he was in serious need of medical attention. "Let's get out of here."

Troy didn't want to linger any longer than was necessary.

He peered into the car when he saw Alicia's hand come up, a mess of liquid that could only be blood smearing across the inside of the window, a brief touch as if she were a painter.

"What the hell did they do to your sister?" he asked, noting her abrupt change in demeanor, gesturing for Nick to get in beside her, to provide some comfort with his presence.

* * *

Troy's question directed Nick's attention back to Alicia who was smearing blood all over the window and acting weird.

"I've no idea," Nick admitted honestly and followed his mute instruction to get in beside her.

She was muttering to herself, and it barely made any sense. Although she seemed to understand herself, at least. It scared Nick profoundly. He had never seen her like that. He was never meant to see her like that, and it felt like a twisted strike of karma for all the past sins he committed in regards to her.

Troy moved to the other side, gripped the weapons bag and threw it into the passenger seat in front. He removed a handgun, checked it and then slipped into the driver's, throwing the car into reverse and then into a light spin to turn them around.

He only had one place in mind that they could go to.

The cabin – the one they had claimed – where Fido patiently waited trapped in the garage.

* * *

Nick brushed a hand across Alicia's cheek gently when Troy started to drive, barely seeing her in the dark. "Alicia, listen to me, Lisha. Are you hurt?"

Alicia vaguely registered someone joining her in the car but didn't have it in her to open her eyes until she heard Nick's voice and felt his touch. She looked at him, her breathing erratic, until she realized the black hole that had been trying to pull her in had disappeared.

"There's no pain," she said, but suddenly found that to be a lie. "And yet there's so much of it."

It was hard to make out Nick's features in the darkness, but she did spot the patches of blood on his skin and clothing, a very deep gash on one of his arms close to his shoulder. She didn't touch it, but stared for a long while before she managed to pull her gaze back to his, her face cracking in absolute horror.

"Did I do that to you?"

It didn't seem impossible. There had been a knife and she had used it on Nick. Hadn't she? Why would she do such a thing? It didn't make sense.

She grasped the front of his shirt and lowered her voice, unable to make out the person in the front seat, worried it might be one of "them".

"Nick, you have to run. They said they wouldn't hurt you, but I think they're lying. You have to get away."

It was absolutely surreal. The more she said, the more Nick felt the same sort of shift still happening in his exhausted mind that turned reality into something vague, like visions in a mist, rather than something solid. His weariness turned into a high of sorts, and he wasn't going to be much help to her until he managed to pick himself up, however that could be achievable at all.

He tried to draw her closer to him to hug in desperate hope of soothing her racing mind. "We got away, Lisha, we did. You're safe now. You didn't do anything wrong. You saved me."

She leaned into him, giving in to his silent insistence to hug her. It wasn't unpleasant. In fact, it was rather nice. He was warm, and she was so very cold.

She pulled her feet up on the seat and covered them with the hem of her dress, trying to make herself more comfortable and to relax against her brother's side. It seemed like one of those moments where she was expected to fall asleep. Maybe even supposed to? But she couldn't. She was wide awake, and even if Nick said she was safe she knew she wasn't. How could she be when her nightmares had come to life?

* * *

Troy stuck to the road because he knew no other way, flipping the lights on and off to catch sight of the road's bends, to see what was ahead and to prevent nabbing constant attention of anyone of the sect followers who'd managed to escape and where out there scrambling for their lives.

He still wasn't sure who was part of what and if Katie was only one pawn in a pretty extensive group. Her family was probably looking for her now and who knew how armed they'd be?

He wished he hadn't lost his rifle.

When they hit the road leading around the trailers, he pulled off the side and parked out of sight. They had a few medical supplies but nothing that they'd need like a sewing kit.

These assholes were hippies, so if they didn't have the medical suture kit, they'd have something else with thread.

"Stay with Alicia, Nick," Troy said as he got out, saving the Clarks an argument and question, leaning in at the door to make sure Nick heard and understood this was a simply five minute solo mission. "You have your gun?"

Nick didn't like it in the slightest, but had nothing to object with. "No, the gun is gone."

Troy freed up the collection he'd gathered from the hillside, dropping them on top of the weapons bag, offering Nick the one he'd snatched off the two bodies from the trailer and knew was loaded. "I'll be five minutes."

He held it over the back of the chair so that Nick could take it and when he did, Troy turned off the ignition to kill the lights, shut the door, and started away from the two in direction of the portable holiday homes.

As soon as he stepped into the clearing, he was met with a low warning growl and the sight of the dog that had fled before chowing down on the side of one of his many owner's faces.

Nature was a fickle bitch.

"I'm not interested in your spoils, Cujo," Troy remarked with a slight smirk of amusement, steering clear of the dog entirely as he entered the first trailer and found a battery powered light shaped like a lantern. He switched it on, thankful to find that it had a fair amount of juice, and ripped the place apart. Drawers flew and cupboard doors opened with a bang.

When he was done, the place looked had been thoroughly ransacked. He had everything he thought they'd need to get them through the night and more. He'd return for the rest tomorrow or the next day.

Troy started out of the trailer with the lamp in hand, everything secured in a pillowcase, and practically ran the short distance to where he hoped Alicia and Nick were still waiting in the car.

It definitely wasn't five minutes. It had to be more, so much more that stretched into a small eternity of Nick's trying to not pass out. It was an impossible task, much like every other one had been that day.

Alicia was leaning into him, still, but scarcely willing to doze off. She was probably hyped, and it was not in his favor. He needed to tap into some hidden resources he never knew he had. At least all those New Age junkies used to preach it but he never had a chance to learn that amazing skill, if it even was real, to begin with.

By the time Troy returned, Nick felt thoroughly stoned out of his mind with how tired he was. He never knew that kind of tired was possible for anyone to feel and still be conscious.

"Honey, I'm home!" Troy announced as he steadily approached, making sure Nick wouldn't mistake him for someone else in the dark and end up shooting. Not that he thought Nick would, but by now the adrenaline might be wearing off and trauma could play with a man's mind.

Troy popped open the door, dropped the stuff onto the floor of the passenger side, and turned on the ignition. He pulled out of the makeshift parking spot and continued toward the cabin.

When he finally parked, Nick pushed the door open, climbed out feeling like he was a hundred and twenty-one years old. Alicia reluctantly followed. It was nice to feel some fresh cool air on his skin.

Oh, how he wished to just lie down on the grass and drift away.

* * *

It was already so cold in the car that stepping out seemed to Alicia like a bad idea. But Nick was insistent and she indulged him, mostly because he looked so awful she worried he might cry if she didn't.

She reached out to touch his hair, gently brushing it away from his bruised head. "You should go sleep. I'll be okay."

Even amongst the chaos in her head, she understood the only reason he hadn't passed out already was because of her. Because he was scared of what would happen if he wasn't watching her. But he needed rest. And she would not be the one to keep him from getting it.

Her gaze turned to the man who rummaged through the jeep. It was Troy! She briefly remembered having seen him in the forest, but then he'd gone. Had he run all this way, chasing the car? All that soldier training must have really benefited him.

* * *

Troy shoved as much of what he'd grabbed from the trailer into the weapons bag, claimed the keys and vowed to drive the car somewhere. It didn't feel right having it parked outside their temporary safe haven. Someone, anyone who'd survived might notice it if they accidentally happened this way, and the night would take on an even longer turn. He linked an arm through the straps, shut the door and regarded his friend and his sister as they attempted to make their way toward the cabin.

"Troy!" Alicia hadn't intended to be so loud, but her volume seemed to have taken on a life of its own.

Troy could feel her. He'd been there. What you did on high was hard to control.

Alicia allowed herself a moment to adjust before continuing in a much calmer tone, arms wrapped around herself to shield from the cold, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I know I make you hard in life."

That's not what she meant to say. She frowned and tried again.

"I know I make your life hard."

That was better. More along the lines of what she'd been thinking.

"And you could have left me to die. But you didn't. And that was nice."

Troy laughed in spite of himself at her poor choice of wording.

"I'm a nice guy, Alicia," he retorted, winking as he caught up with the two. Nick looked about ready to collapse and, to combat his exhaustion, Troy hooked his free arm around Nick's waist, saying nothing and making no fuss about the action, simply doing it and hopeful Nick would accept the help.

Nick could have laughed at Alicia's little attempt at gratitude, but he had no energy for that. All that came was a smile and a soft chuckle. He didn't fight Troy's arm, either. There was nothing in him capable of any resistance or effort, whatsoever. Especially while seeing the cabin in front of them. They were almost there. Almost free to rest a bit.

Alicia smiled, contemplating climbing the stairs to the cabin, but stopped because they were moving too much. She would have to wait it out.

Something banged in the garage.

"Help!" a small voice called. "Please!"

Nick stepped out of Troy's arm, eyeing him incredulously. "What is it, Troy?"

"I think the horse is hungry," Alicia said to no one in particular, wandering that way to take care of it. She had an apple earlier, but she couldn't remember where it had gotten to. It would have been perfect now.

Troy's eyes hit the sky as soon as the familiar voice started banging away at the garage door and Nick's attention wavered toward it. Fucking hell. Couldn't she just have died in there?

Not that Troy wasn't planning to get to that portion later.

"It's what Alicia said. The horse," he retorted, shrugging off the weapons bag, swung it and flung it onto the porch where Alicia stood glued to place. He had no idea what she was doing, but at least she'd gotten further inside than her brother. "I'll tend to that later. Let's just get you inside. You're bleeding from just about every hole."

Nick didn't even want to listen to any of it. He headed for the garage, gritting his teeth as he gathered the last of whatever resources he still had someplace in his body. He pulled the garage door open and was nearly swooped off his feet with the horse – their buddy – that hurried out and immediately followed his call of nature.

Katie sat on the floor, her face wet with tears. Nick couldn't see if she was injured, but he wouldn't put it past Troy.

"Pleaaase," she wept, her body shuddering so badly she almost fell on her side if Nick hadn't supported her.

"It's okay, Katie, I'll take you home," he said, reaching behind her to feel the restraints. The knots were too tight. He turned to his companions. "Give me a knife."

Alicia trailed after her brother, curious and frightened at the same time. There was something familiar about the girl's face but Alicia couldn't place it. At Nick's request for a knife, she patted herself down and found no weapons, then looked to Troy for help.

Katie's weeping was of no significance. Troy felt nothing. She deserved every bit of isolation and terror she felt. After all, they weren't the first people she'd fed to the sharks.

"You're in no condition to play hero, Nick. She's not going anywhere." Troy sighed and gently reached for Alicia's arm as not to spook her, refusing to get him a knife, routing her away from her brother and the trembling girl. "Let's get you guys inside, patched up and we'll talk about what to do about her. This fight can wait."

All Nick managed instead of _The fuck is wrong with you_ was a ragged sigh.

It wasn't a rope around her ankles. Some fabric tied in knots. He pulled her shoes off, then yanked and tugged at the ties until he slipped one loop off, and then the rest loosened. Having a feel of what it was, he managed to free her wrists even faster. Her hands looked completely pale in the poor starlight. And utterly cold. Like her feet.

And she wept and wept, couldn't stop at this point. She was exhausted in her own way, Nick could sympathize.

He climbed to his feet and pulled her up as well. She wasn't steady, and he had to support her as they walked from the garage to the cabin. Katie was weeping harder, her whole body shaking against his, filling him with helpless pity. He was mad at her before, but now there was only pity. Nick helped her to the car, helped her into the shotgun seat.

"The keys," he turned to Troy, extending a hand. "No laters, no tomorrows, just give me the keys."

Nick all of a sudden had an inordinate amount of strength. Opening the garage door, untying the crying traitor and even going so far as to help Katie into the car Troy had planned to get rid of.

 _And now he wants to take her home?_

Alicia's gaze stayed on Nick as he helped the girl. It seemed the right thing to do, of course, but somehow she was still failing to completely understand what was going on. The girl was crying, like Alicia had been crying. And that made Alicia hurt for her.

"Nick, you can barely stand," she murmured when he demanded the keys from Troy, worried her brother was going to get himself hurt even worse than he already was. "Can't she stay the night? I'll take care of her."

Before Troy could answer, Alicia made surprising sense.

At least in theory.

"Listen to Alicia. Katie's fine spending the night in the garage. Besides… what are you going to tell her parents? Oh, sorry my friend kidnapped your daughter after she drugged us… I just wanted to do the right thing and bring her back? Get real. Get rest. You're too tired to think clearly. We all are."

He walked Alicia over to the bottom of the porch by the rugs, releasing her once he knew she was steady on her feet, to go and retrieve the horse, walking him back over to the garage while Nick decided what to do.

"She goes home now, whether I have to drive her or walk her there," Nick said. "Give me the damn keys. Please."

Troy slipped the horse back into the confines of the garage, shoving him as he'd done before, sealing him inside with airy ease.

If Nick wasn't going to listen to reason and wanted to play the hero, he could figure it out his damn self.

Troy returned to Alicia and guided her toward the porch steps, encouraging her to climb. "I want to get inside. I need a drink."

Nick pulled the girl from the car and after him as he walked. She seemed to be eager to get away from Troy, whether on foot or in the car.

She must have caught on how tired Nick was and helped him with the garage door.

"Get up there," he said. She wanted to argue, Nick could see it in her face. But then, she did. It took her a lot of efforts, but he resisted the urge to help her up. He didn't want to collapse here. It was not the time.

Once she was up, Nick started walking. The horse didn't have to be pulled, he was as eager to move as the girl was to get away.

Alicia watched her brother fussing over the girl in the garage, flabbergasted. Where was he even taking her? Where did she come from?

"We can't let him go on his own," she said, one hand wrapped around Troy's wrist, whether to hold his attention or stop him, she wasn't sure. "He'll get hurt worse. And the dead are out there. I saw them. They're angry. Travis. Jake. They're all very angry."

Troy didn't want him going out there on his own, and Nick appeared to be doing everything in his power to fight it. Troy shouldn't be surprised. It was his nature.

"Don't take the horse," Troy supplied, squeezing Alicia's bicep in support, a gesture he assumed might go over her head considering how high she was, and the fact that she was seeing the dead. "It's dark and you have no fucking clue where you're going." He descended the stairs and started toward the two. "You want to go, then take the damn car."

Troy glared at the girl on top of the horse, practically shoving the keys into Nick's hand.

"If you're not back in an hour or even by morning, I'm coming after you. We crystal on that, kid? You touch one more hair on his head and I'll be sacrificing you to the Gods."

Katie barely looked at him, her gaze transfixed on Nick as if he were the center of her world and would protect her.

 _The little cunt._

Troy removed the hand from the leather straps, gripped her scrawny leg and then her clothes and yanked her off the horse's back. She gave a yell of terror, and then of pain, as one knee hit the ground, skinning itself in the process, almost twisting an ankle as he hauled her to her feet.

"Give Rosemary my best and tell her I look forward to tasting our bread."

When Troy let her go, he was sure he could smell fresh urine. He smiled to himself, pleased, petting the horse's muzzle, murmuring a reassurance to settle his frayed nerves, and then led him back to the garage.

Nick didn't see that coming, and, despite his exhaustion, he felt his anger flare.

"Just stop being such an asshole for fucking once," he hissed, helping the girl up. She was weeping again.

He just couldn't let this one slide, couldn't leave Katie to a night of terror and anxiety. She might have been playing a malicious part, using her innocent face to the monsters' advantage, but she was just a confused kid. Nick couldn't stop seeing it. He didn't want to stop seeing it.

She was back in the passenger's seat, crying quietly. Nick turned the car around and turned the lights on as he drove. It took about five minutes to come up to the ranch. Two riders appeared in the headlights, guns aiming as they tried to see through the glare. Nick dimmed it, then killed the engine.

"Tell them it's fine," he said. "I'm not playing a captive for the second time today, I've had enough to last me a year."

She nodded and opened the door, stepping out. "It's me, uncle George, I'm fine. It's okay. Don't shoot!"

"Katie!" George lowered the gun, so did another one – Matthew, Nick thought, was his name. "Are you okay? We've been looking all over for you! What happened?"

"Timmy! How's Timmy?"

George slipped off the horse and hugged the girl to him. "He's gonna be fine, but t'was a bad cut. He refused to tell what happened, we all were so worried about you – he asks for you all the time."

Nick forced himself to step out of the car, propping his forearms on the top of the door. Katie shot a scared glance at him, much like when he caught her in the middle of the night.

"You gonna tell them what happened or you want me to?" he asked her.

She seemed paler once again. Like all color went out of her face.

"It's okay for them to know," he added softly, hoping to pull at some strings in her that should be there. "They love you, and those people back there don't know the meaning of the word. They used you. They lied to you. It's not your fault, you just got confused. You can fix it by telling your family what's been happening. Please, Katie. It's okay. It's safe to tell now."

"What…" George uttered, looking thoroughly dumbfounded. "What is going on here?"

Katie hid her face in his chest and wept. He looked at Nick, his face stern.

"Did your friend Troy do something to 'er? Did he? Or did you? Haven't you and your sister left?"

"We haven't," Nick said. "The trailer people took her away at night, and I followed. They almost killed us in some freaky sacrifice… Long story. Troy saved us. If not for him, we'd both be dead. He learned from Katie. She was at our cabin the whole time, he went alone. She was safe there. I'll bring the horse tomorrow, if you don't mind. I'm sorry we couldn't return her sooner."

George and Matt gaped at Nick for a bit, then George cleared his throat. Katie still shook against him.

"I… I dunno what to tell you," he confessed, pulling off his hat to wipe his brow and exchange glances with Matt. "You okay yourself? You're hurt?"

"I'm gonna be fine, thanks. If we could talk tomorrow…"

"Sure, I guess we could if she's okay…" He coughed again, his horse scoffed into his shoulder nudging it. "Come inside, we'll patch you up."

"No, really, I need to go back to my sister. Thank you, sir."

"What's with the trailer people?" he asked.

"I think most of them are dead," Nick ventured. He hoped they were.

George frowned. "Damn… You sure? I think I'm missing a lot of shit 'ere – pardon my French," he added to the girl. "What kind of sacrifice we talkin' about 'ere?"

"Let me take Katie in," Matt said. She eagerly detached from George, wiping at her cheeks. When they started away, George's eyes bore into Nick again. Even his horse looked expectant.

"They were some kind of pagans, the bloody kind," Nick explained. "Spirits, sacred hunt… they got into some of your kids' minds. Mystery always gets the bored youth. Katie brought us pie and mulled wine to the guesthouse. Troy and Alicia ate and drank, I didn't. There was some sleeping pill in the wine. She told me later it was her mom's. When the trailer people came, Troy and Lisha were both out cold. I was behind the house on nature's call. I followed them, got tied up, too. It would've ended ugly if not for Troy. He got it from Katie, and he had to threaten Timmy to make her talk. He was scared for us. He behaves like an ass when he's scared. I'm sorry it happened like that. I'm sorry you have to find out like that, but better now than later – there could be no later."

"Damn…" he muttered again, shocked and dismayed. He shook his head, speechless for another moment. "I dunno what to say. It's nasty. It's bad, man. They seemed like nice people when they rolled in. We had a few meetings, some of them had dinner with us, we gave them food. And then, after a while, they tried to steal from us. We stopped being hospitable after that, and they got bitter. And things just went worse. I couldn't think, though… the kids… man. Bad." He shook his head again. "I'm not a hateful person. Hell, I try my best to not be. For kids and all. But this makes me…" He exhaled, his hand finding the gun's butt in the holster.

Nick got the point. He nodded. "I'll return the horse tomorrow," he reminded.

"Sure, sure," George said, regarding him. "You sure you won't go in and let us see if you're okay?"

"No, thanks, I'm really fine. Just tired. Thanks, though."

"Take care, son," he put the hat on, nodded. "I'll double the guard for the night. Hope y'all safe there, too."

"It's a good idea."

* * *

Alicia watched the taillights of the jeep become smaller and smaller the further Nick drove, and before long they'd vanished entirely. Two angry red eyes in the darkness.

She turned and finally climbed the stairs to the porch, slowly making her way into the cabin. It was dark, of course, and eerie. But she moved past the doorway and inside, unaware she was leaving bloodied footprints in her wake.

When they had come here before, the cabin had not reminded her of Jake in the least. But now, she could see him all around. Literally. Wherever she looked, there he was, lurking in the dark, watching her.

"Are you angry with me?" she asked. "Are you angry I came here without you?"

He didn't answer and she couldn't see his face clearly. If only she could find some light.

She moved towards the kitchen, feeling her way with her hands, bumping into a chair and then a table. Hadn't Henry used a wood burning stove? There had to be matches somewhere.

* * *

Troy closed the door on the horse a final time, leaning against it to catch his breath and watch as the taillights disappeared. He still didn't agree with Nick's decision to take her back. They didn't know who else was involved. People were fantastic actors in this new world.

They had to be. Everybody had to be. There was no thing as genuine goodness, anymore.

Katie certainly wasn't, and Troy didn't buy into that impressionable teenager bullshit.

It was one thing practicing the black arts and pretending you were summoning some devil to take over as a means of security and control, but to sacrifice people and to claim that you had no understanding of it? Nick. Alicia. That was a punishable felony that should have been paid for with death or the loss of a limb.

At least when Troy was doing it, he didn't pretend that it was for anything but his own curiosity. He didn't hide behind some cloven hoofed freak's skirts.

He pushed away from the garage, making a mental note to return with some water before he turned in for the night – If he did. There would be no sleep until Nick returned.

Troy entered the cabin and found Alicia talking to herself, moving about the interior like a blind alley cat.

Her words were curious and Troy wondered who was haunting her.

After a couple seconds of silent observation, he bent to retrieve the lamp from on top of the weapons bag. He turned it on, grabbed the bag and stepped inside, raising the lamp so that the light could spread.

Even if it had been exactly what Alicia'd been searching for, the sudden appearance of light startled her. She whirled around to face it and found Troy carrying some sort of lantern, like some fairytale guardian ushering dead souls into the next life.

"You okay, twinkle toes? Maybe you should have some water. Are you hungry?"

Alicia threw a quick glance to where she had seen Jake last, but he wasn't there anymore. He'd moved. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck.

She swallowed and inched forward, trying to put distance between herself and the angry Otto, to approach the one who currently seemed to offer more safety.

"Not hungry. Feel sick," she said, trying to meet Troy's gaze, but her eyes refused to settle. They roamed his body instead. He was covered in blood, and it was hard to say how much of it was his, except for that dark patch at his side that seemed to still be wet.

"If you're not going to eat, you should definitely drink something. It'll help flush whatever's in your system." Troy couldn't figure out what they'd given her. Not that the details mattered. She didn't appear as if she was going to be keel over anytime soon or swallow her tongue and that would have been the only concern. All he had to do was make sure she didn't trip over her feet and break her neck.

She reached for his shirt and lifted the hem to have a peek, eyeing the wound there with a grim fascination.

"Does it hurt?"

She had the sudden urge to poke it, but decided against it, letting his shirt fall back down as she grabbed her itchy finger with her other hand to contain it.

Troy shook his head a no. It did hurt but the discomfort was manageable. It always was. It had to be.

"What about you?" he asked, kicking the door closed, pushing the nearby couch behind it to _lock_ it, and moved to retrieve the water bottle from the weapons bag. Alicia was covered in blood, too, but he couldn't tell if any of it belonged to her. Once he uncovered it beneath the weapons, he extended it toward her. "They cut you?"

Alicia took the bottle he offered, gently turning it in her hand. The water made pretty colors. In fact, she was pretty sure there was a rainbow snake swimming in it. She decided to wait with the drinking until the snake could finish.

Troy's question forced her to examine herself. There was a lot of blood down the front of her dress, standing out because of the white fabric. But she didn't think anyone had cut her. She remembered clearly that the wound on her other hand had been foolishly self-inflicted. It hadn't hurt then, but now that she thought about it, it stung a little. Throbbed. As if she had grown another tiny heart in her palm.

She shook her head. "I cut them," she said. "They gave me a lot of baths." Her eyes briefly glazed over in distaste at the memory. "They were _very_ thorough. I didn't like it."

How methodical were they, Troy wondered. How clean did you have to be to be sacrificed to Satan or whatever macabre deity they'd chosen to worship?

Instead of asking, Troy let his imagination run wild. It wasn't important anyway. She couldn't suffer bleeding out or internal bleeding from a good scrubbing.

"Were you bit? Shot? They do anything that might cause for medical attention? Aside from the hand."

That he'd take care of soon enough. Troy crouched beside the bag again, removing the extra bandages he'd found, some disinfectant ointment, plasters and some needle and thread. Not the medical kind.

"I don't think so," she murmured, turning to watch him rummage through his bag, frowning slightly. "I don't know. I can't feel anything."

Not much pain, anyway. She was cold, though. Really cold. And she wasn't sure if that was because of the temperature in the room or because Jake kept breathing ghostly air down her neck.

"Drink your water, Alicia."

She looked down at the bottle again, contemplated indulging his request for a moment, then decided against it. She was already feeling nauseous. A snake in her belly wouldn't help.

She cautiously reached out and placed the bottle on the nearest table, then stepped back again as if it was a grenade that could randomly explode. "You first."

If he swallowed the snake, then she could drink.

Her suspension of the water didn't go unnoticed. Did she think he'd drugged it? All things considered, he didn't blame her for being cautious.

"Who was that girl?" she asked suddenly as the thought struck. "Is she your girlfriend?"

Or… had she been Jake's? Was that why he had wanted to come here? Because he had a girl stowed away in the garage? That son of a bitch!

She turned to glare at Jake over her shoulder. Jake didn't seem to care. That hurt.

Her follow up questions were peculiar and as if she'd missed the entire sequence of Troy's argument with Nick.

Troy reached for the bottle and unscrewed the cap, making a show of bringing it to his lips for a long drink. He stopped as he hit the halfway mark, but her interest hooked on something behind her in the shadier dark.

Was that some haunting figure she'd been talking to?

"She was an inconsequential moron. Nothing more." He gave the remaining water a shake, letting it noisily slosh around as he held it out to her.

Troy drank the snake. Alicia's eyes widened, her lips pursed. She decided not to say anything. He might get angry.

She took the bottle and, after a quick inspection, allowed herself a small sip, waiting a moment to test if it would stay down before she took another.

"Grab the light. Let's go upstairs. We'll get you cleaned up and stitched up."

Troy kicked the weapons bag beneath the couch, claimed their medical supplies, a random woman's shirt and a pair of shorts for Alicia, and headed for the stairs. He was in the middle of going up when he stopped and braced himself against the railing.

"Think you can make it?" He hadn't been paying much attention before while they were outside but he had noticed that she was struggling with even the smallest of activity and that her mind was all over the place. "If not, just wait."

She slowly traipsed behind him towards the stairs. It was weird. She normally felt so wary of Troy, suspicious of his every action, but now… it was as though all such fears had shed off her shoulders. It was nice in a way. Relaxing.

 _And if he's secretly plotting to kill me, that's okay, too._ She knew something was terribly wrong with her head. She just couldn't figure out exactly what had caused it. But crazy people were a liability. So maybe it would be for the best?

He continued up the last few stairs, feeling his way along the hallway and into what he temporarily viewed as his room, dumping the stuff where he assumed the mattress was before heading back to see how far she'd gotten.

She lost the sight of him and made to follow, climbing the stairs one at a time, tucking the water bottle beneath her arm to free up a hand so she could hold onto the railing. The first few went okay, but the last half of the steps turned out to be increasingly complicated. They were moving as though they were an escalator but she never came closer to the upstairs landing. At least not until it dawned on her she had stopped moving altogether.

One glance behind her and seeing Jake approach set her legs in motion again, however, and by the time Troy returned she had made it. She pushed the lantern into his hands, her own trembling too much to be of any use, and she allowed him to lead her where they needed to go.

He took a hold of the lantern, aware of her shaking. He'd noticed the same reflection of terror in Katie all day. Whereas he'd fed on it, used that dread as a method to keep her in control, it didn't look half as entertaining on Alicia.

"Whatever it is that's haunting you, Alicia, they can't get you. You're fine. It's in your head," he stated, feeling that although it was easy to ignore her reactions and play it out, he also needed to say something this time, provide a notion of relief like Nick might have, had he not chosen to play babysitter to the whiner. "If it wasn't I'd have driven a knife through its skull by now."

With that said, he led her down the tiny hallway and into the bathroom, setting the lantern down on the counter to run some water into the bath.

"No, you wouldn't," she countered as they entered the bathroom. "You love him."

He'd said as much himself at one point, and she'd believed him.

At the mention of love, it wasn't hard to figure out who she was referring to. Jake. Troy envied her, in part. She could see him, and although she was scared of him, at least she could remember what he looked like. Ever since Troy had driven that knife into his skull to silence the disease that had taken over him because of his actions, it was as if he'd warped in Troy's mind completely. Troy could barely even remember his voice, as if the moment Troy pulled that trigger, that part of his life that had been with him for twenty-something years faded away into nothing and settled like dust.

Just like the ranch.

It was as if neither those things existed to Troy.

Jeremiah, however, was a wholly different pestilence. He'd ensured Troy would never forget him.

* * *

The bathroom mirror offered a temporary distraction from her thoughts of Jake. Alicia watched her reflection in the poor lighting and leaned in a little, both fascinated and horrified by what she saw. Her eyes were almost completely black, pupils dilated so much it looked like she had shark-eyes. Alicia blinked a few times, trying to clear them, but it did nothing.

She vaguely registered Troy occupying himself with the bathtub behind her, but her focus remained on her reflection. There were tiny flowers in her hair. She remembered now that someone had braided them in. Maybe it had been pretty at some point, but now with all the blood she thought it made her look like some murderous fairy.

She picked at the flowers, tugging them from her hair with rising disgust, suddenly hating the very sight of herself because it brought back the knowledge of what those people had intended to do to her. How close they had come to breaking her in a way she'd never truly had to fear before.

"People suck," she muttered. "I hope they die choking on their own blood."

Troy turned off the water once the tub had filled up a quarter of the way and cast a glance in Alicia's direction as she spoke, a lazy smile twisting onto his features at her vengeful commentary. He'd never known her to be vindictive. Not the way she so frequently liked to judge him in the past.

"They probably did. And more."

He collected the solitary towel they had used a day ago, shook it clean, and set it down close to the bath.

"You want to rinse off?"

Alicia turned to regard the tub, considering his offer as she lowered herself to sit on its edge, reaching in to feel the water with her fingers. It was cold. Of course, it was cold.

She wanted to get rid of the blood on her skin, to get out of the horrendous dress that made her feel as though her breasts were in constant danger of spilling out. But it seemed like so much work. The thought of lowering herself into the freezing water was enough to make her shiver right then and there. And like some strange contrast, she could feel her forehead become damp from sweat. Did she have a fever? Maybe the cold water wasn't too bad of an idea, after all?

She held onto the edge of the tub with both hands and swung her bare feet in, forcing herself to place them fully into the water, and watched as it turned a faint red. The soles of her feet stung. Maybe she had stepped on something sharp when they were wandering in the forest?

Once she inched her way toward the bath, Troy took a step back to give her a measure of privacy. He didn't want to see her off and have her go crazy if she had PTSD flashbacks. You never knew with these situations how people would respond to triggers.

If this even was one.

She didn't freak out, though, she didn't rage, and from what he could make out about her reaction, her hesitation solely stemmed on the fact that the water was icy cold.

She was stronger than he gave her credit for.

She allowed herself another moment to brace herself before she stood, turning her back to Troy and trying to sweep her hair over her shoulder. "Is there a zipper?"

It felt like it, and she doubted her own capability to undo it while literally standing on slippery ground.

"Hm?" he asked, confused until he saw her sweeping her hair off her shoulder. The gesture in itself wasn't meant to be seductive, logic and past experience told him as much, and he could practically hear her sober judgement, but his crotch took on an appreciation of its own.

A complicated cheat sheet.

Troy shook off the senseless hormonal stirring and quickly undid the zipper, refusing to linger longer than was necessary and have her cry rape in the morning when she remembered something in shallow recollections.

He'd been there.

"I'll be right back. I'm taking the light," he announced, assuming that she'd be okay to sit on the rim, and quickly stepped out to get the medical stuff and the extra clothes he'd grabbed for her.

* * *

Once Troy had left the bathroom, Alicia felt brave enough to make a new attempt at conquering the cold. She pulled the dress off over her head and threw it to the floor, slowly lowering herself into the bath and immediately regretting it.

Holy shit, it was cold!

She sat, bringing her knees to her chest and hurriedly splashed herself with water to rinse off, unwilling to remain any longer than what was necessary.

By the time Troy returned, she was shivering violently, but felt she had done a decent job at cleaning the blood off her chest, face, and arms. She'd managed to locate the towel on the edge of the tub and wrapped it around herself, but had yet to exit the tub itself. In the back of her mind it seemed an impossible task to step out. Especially since she couldn't seem to actually locate the floor by sight alone.

Troy set the lantern down on the counter again, along with the medial supplies and turned to her as she stood in the middle of the bath. She looked at war with herself.

He approached her and extended a hand or arm, letting her decide what she needed to get out. "All good?"

Alicia reached for him without hesitation, taking hold of his outstretched arm to steady herself as she finally climbed out, teeth chattering beyond her control.

"I'm… losing my… mind," she managed to utter, feeling a small sense of relief that the light had returned. "I think… I'm broken."

Troy could relate to that in every sense of the statement. He'd felt that for years before the apocalypse. The drugs definitely didn't make that better.

"You're just high. Once this part wears off you'll be back to your infuriatingly sane self. You never got into drugs like Nick, huh?"

Was it that? She was high? That explained a lot. For a moment she even felt so relieved she smiled.

"No. When you see the person… you love most in the world… become reduced to a shell of what he used to be because of drugs… you don't really feel tempted to follow."

He shook off her hand once she was steady on her feet and retrieved the clothing, and turned his back on her to give her privacy again. "Any mentionables that need fixing?"

She made an attempt to pull on the shorts Troy had brought for her. She succeeded on the third try and didn't fall over. That was a win. The oversized shirt quickly followed, but she gave up on the buttons after a few, suddenly distracted by Troy's next question.

"I don't know. Maybe my hand? It doesn't hurt but…" She brought her palm close to her face, trying to inspect it before holding it up for him to see. She didn't trust her own senses anymore. "It looks deep. I could be imagining it."

Despite the show of privacy, the mirror had provided Troy with a full view of everything, and oddly enough, he didn't feel as bad for it as he should have. _Why should I?_ It wasn't illegal to look and it wasn't as if he were planning to go beyond that moral border.

When he saw her arm go up in the mirror, he turned around, aware that in her right frame of mind she might have questioned the instinct.

"It's deep. You were holding the blade when you went to town on the bitch. That does a bit of damage." He took the hand and examined it closely, pushing the flesh together to see how he'd work it. "You ever had stitches?" He let her go and took a step toward the counter, patting at it lightly: "Hop up."

Turning her back to the counter in question, she braced both hands on it as if having already forgotten about the injury and carefully lifted herself up to sit, legs dangling.

"Once. When I was seven," she said, making another attempt at the buttons on her shirt. The shivering had lessened slightly and that made things easier. On a more sour note, the nausea had returned. "One of the other kids pushed me off the slide. I hit my head."

She was clearly losing the battle against her shirt buttons, and after a second's amusement trying to watch her do them up with a shaky grip, Troy swiped her hand away and took pity on her.

He didn't do them all. Just two. Enough to keep her modesty in check.

Alicia lifted her good hand to the left side of her forehead, in the general vicinity of where a tiny scar could still be seen if one knew what one was looking for. Now it was covered by bruises and the healing cut from her tumble in the river.

"I used to fall down a lot," she added without much thought. "Nick would give me shit for it. Cause I couldn't keep up with him. He liked to jump off things."

"He still does," Troy added, remembering how they'd scaled that fence a couple of nights ago and how Nick'd jumped to freedom, and following her probing finger with his eyes to what Troy assumed was a hidden scar. "You don't seem as clumsy anymore, though. I guess you grew out of that."

Alicia didn't know about that. She still felt clumsy most of the time, but perhaps that was just part of some lingering self-doubt.

He took her injured hand, turned it palm up and with his free hand drew the lantern closer to her side. "Unlike when you were seven, I don't have anesthesia and this is going to hurt. A lot."

He unrolled the bandages next to her and quickly thread the needle.

"I'll try to be quick. You, uh… you want to bite down on something other than my neck?"

She eyed his process with the needle and thread, marveling at how he managed to set it up so easily, and looked back up at him when he next spoke. An amused smile claimed her lips, and she reached out to touch his face, just beneath his eye where her mother had shoved the spoon, tracing the faded bruises there. "You're pretty."

"Is this a relationship or an alliance?" Jake said from the dark corner near the door. Her attention snapped to him and she frowned, feeling an odd sense of Déjà vu and guilt for some reason. She stared him down for a long moment and he met her gaze head on. He was different, though. So different from when they'd been together. So _cold_.

She swallowed and forced her attention back on Troy, trying to calm her sudden erratic breathing and racing heart.

"Just do it."

Her gentle touch was unexpected but not at all unpleasant. The compliment took Troy for a loop, though. Who knew the youngest Clark could look at him with anything other than disdain?

He didn't reply as her attention wavered to somewhere over his shoulder, sucking the humor out of the scene like a vacuum. She was trembling again.

He wondered what she imagined Jake had said to her.

Troy tightened her grip on her hand, refraining from looking at her face as he used the hem of her shirt to dab it dry, knowing that once he started all that would be there would be pain of some kind.

Whereas she had barely felt pain when the injury occurred, Alicia did feel it now. Troy's warning had been genuine.

She sucked in a sharp breath of air as the needle pierced her skin and clamped her teeth together, unable to withhold a few groans as he continued. She fought to keep her hand still even if every instinct she possessed screamed at her to pull it back and hide it from Troy and his vicious needle. She managed for the most part, with only a few brief breaks needed where he had to tug her arm back into his grasp.

As uncomfortable as this whole process was, the pain seemed to temporarily clear her head somewhat. Jake disappeared and for that she was not sorry.

Troy didn't draw it out and didn't torture her with the anticipation of when it was coming. He just did it, pressing the skin together, forcing the thin steel through the soft tissue on the breaks edge until it started bleeding again and that involuntary tremble seemed to dive off into an actual quake. It wasn't the best sewing job but it was over relatively quickly.

He used his teeth to bite off the last bit of cotton and the needle, setting both aside, picking up the already laid bandage to wrap it around her palm and to tie it off on the back of her hand.

"Don't wet it, don't dirty it and try not to use that hand to much for the next couple of days. You might pull the stitches free and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want a repeat session without whatever you're on."

He stepped aside in indication that he was done and she was free, and slowly stepped toward the light to check himself out in the mirror. He'd stopped bleeding, thank God, but it was still oozing.

* * *

Alicia slipped off the counter when Troy gave her the go-ahead, and absentmindedly examined her new bandages on her way out of the room, pausing in the doorway to watch him perform an inspection of his own injuries.

She was going to ask him if he would be able to stitch himself up when the sound of an approaching car caught her attention. It died down too quickly for her to be sure she had actually heard it, though, and once more she sought confirmation from Troy.

"Is that a car? Is it Nick?"

Troy released the hem of his shirt and immediately killed the light on the battery-powered lantern, moving toward the bathroom window to peer out into the dark.

There were, in fact, lights out there, headlights, but as hopeful as he was, he couldn't be sure it was Nick.

Troy stole across the bathroom and met Alicia in the doorway, squeezing past her to sweep ahead. "I'll check it out."

He didn't wait to see if she understood the instruction and slowly made his way downstairs, being careful, listening for any foreign talking outside as he made his way for the couch. He crouched, felt around beneath it for the bag, removed the knife he'd stolen from the kid and shifted the piece of furniture only so-so.

He still didn't hear anything.

He gripped the knife, opened the door, and slowly started out.

There hadn't been movement where he saw the car park, and by the time he stepped off the porch, he recognized it as the one Nick had left in.

He was back.

Troy hurried toward it, half-expecting to see someone else in the front seat as a told-you-so; only it was Nick and Troy was grateful to be proved wrong. Nick was out cold, by the looks of it, and for a second Troy questioned if they'd shot him.

He lowered the knife, gripped the driver's door and yanked it open. "Dude? Nick? You okay, man?"


	16. Chapter 16

**THE CHOSEN ONES — PART 6**

Troy's voice came from another planet. Nick struggled to grasp at the meaning, struggled to open his eyes and move anything at all. It felt that if he did, he'd pass out with all certainty.

"No," he muttered, more like pushed the sound out. "But I'll have to be…"

Alicia followed Troy downstairs, though without the ability to move as quickly and steadily as he did, it took her longer. He disappeared out of the cabin ahead of her and she paused in the open doorway, squinting through the darkness until she recognized the jeep and heard him address her brother.

A ripple of fear took hold of her at Troy's tone, instantly assuming the worst and bounding off the porch to catch up with the two, trying to peer around Troy's tall frame.

"Nick?"

Troy crouched once Alicia caught up behind him, struggling to get a good look at Nick to see if any more damage had been done or if what he was seeing was already what he knew.

"How'd the exchange go?" Troy asked, reaching in to take a hold of Nick's wrist and to help him out of the car.

Nick pulled his hand away from Otto's grasp, mourning the loss of stillness that was feeling better than moving. With a grunt and a lot of efforts that almost made him sick, Nick climbed out and leaned against the side of the car to keep upright.

"I only saw George and Matthew," he said. "They were looking all over for her, making themselves crazy, wondering what bad shit could have gotten her – or maybe that made the fatal mistake and that bad shit was you.

"She cried, they seemed shocked. But they were happy to see she was alive. They were grateful to have her back safe."

He detached from the car and went for the cabin, hoping to not trip over his feet or anything else on the ground. The stairs were a bitch, too. Nick didn't really know how he got to a chair, but it was good to sit down again. There was a bottle of water on the table next to him. He took a few hungry gulps, felt slightly better.

Once more Alicia felt like she was missing some crucial part of the story – their story.

She followed her brother, keeping a firm hold of the banister as she moved in case the steps would start to shift again. Thankfully they didn't.

They had left the lantern upstairs and the kitchen was still dark, making it hard to gauge how damaged Nick truly was. So she got up close, took his hand in hers to inspect it but was unable to continue from there, idly tracing the lines of his palm with a finger, smiling slightly at how little sparks rose in the wake of her touch. Like those sparklers they used on fourth of July. It was pretty.

Troy let the siblings go on ahead into the house and changed direction to the garage to let the horse out for a bit.

It meandered out freely and immediately headed for the grass.

Troy scrubbed his hands across his face tiredly, walked back to the car and got in, driving it away from where Nick had parked to dispose of it as Troy'd wanted to earlier.

It didn't take him long.

When he returned a few minutes later, the horse was still feeding. He decided to leave it outside for the time being while he tended to the animal's water, deciding to busy himself with the task now that he had a little time.

He collected the cooler from where he knew he left it the morning, wiped out the gross shit at the bottom, throwing it into the tall grass in the distance, and then went into the house with it to wash it out in the tub.

Confident that the two siblings would look after one another.

* * *

Her fingers tickled Nick's palm, grounding him. He felt he could have easily passed out in this dark while sitting down if it wasn't for Alicia and what he recalled she was going through. Still.

He could barely see her. They needed more light here. He glanced into the living room and the fireplace.

They were quiet for a long time and it was nice. Soothing. Alicia played with the pretty sparkles for a while and when they disappeared settled for simply stroking Nick's hand, pathetically trying to comfort him. She had a feeling he was fading. If only they could clean the blood off him, patch him up, maybe he'd feel better.

"You have a flashlight?" Nick asked when Troy came in. "We need to light the fireplace. Can't sit in the dark all night, however stupid it sounds."

"You should let Troy give you a bath," Alicia whispered once Otto came back inside, releasing Nick's hand to brush some of his hair from his face. "And sleep. You both need sleep. You look like shit."

"Are you actually planning of sitting up?" Troy asked approaching the stairs. Didn't seem likely considering Nick was having a really hard time keeping his eyes open. "Why not just get yourselves upstairs and into bed?"

He laughed in response to Alicia's whispered suggestion and then headed upstairs to finish his task.

"I'll freshen the water for you, master!" he called, mimicking what he could remember of Igor's voice, breaking out into a new blast of satisfied chuckles.

Troy entered the bathroom and immediately went in search of the light on the counter. He turned it on, dropped the cooler into the bloodied water and rinsed out the inside.

He stopped after a while, rolling his head on his shoulders, exhausted and sore.

He straightened again, shaking out the kinks the last few days of strain created, and walked to the counter, picking up the needle to rethread it.

He took off his shirt, cleaning the wound to make sure there was nothing caught in it, and then unsteadily began to sew, barely making a sound as he stitched it together.

Troy's mocking was funny, but Nick was too tired to laugh. Seeing he didn't want to be of help with what Nick was asking of him, Nick made himself get up again, patting at his jeans for a lighter. It was miraculously still in his pocket.

He lit it and checked the fireplace. There was wood in it, probably prepared by Henry. Some more was stacked next to it. A few newspapers lying next to it. He scrunched one, stuffed it under the wood in the fireplace and brought his lighter to it. It flickered on, licked at the offerings, burning brighter. The room started to light up more. He sat on the floor, looking at the fire for a moment, then turned to regard Alicia.

"How you feeling? Are you okay?"

No one seemed to take her suggestions seriously, which Alicia probably would have found insulting any other day but didn't seem to matter now. She watched Nick make a fire and once it caught and burned brightly moved in close, lured by the warmth it provided. She crouched down beside the fireplace, holding her hands out but careful not to touch.

"Reckon I'm better than you," she answered honestly, gaze transfixed by the flames and the way they danced. "Even if I'm losing my mind. Should I get you bandages? Troy left them with Jake. But if I'm really quiet I might manage to sneak past him."

Troy broke the needle free of the last inch of thread, wincing as it tore at the sensitive flesh it was holding together and tossed it into the sink to be cleaned and dumped later.

He bandaged himself and redressed, walking off the lingering ache as he headed for the cooler. He removed it from the water, letting the last filth drain by balancing it on the edge and bent to pull the plug.

The comfort of the job didn't escape him. There was a sense of peace about it, a semblance of purpose that stemmed past the experimentation, survival and everyday tests of endurance.

A line of chores that allowed him to connect to people in a way Troy usually couldn't or hadn't in the past.

He turned off the battery-powered light to save it and removed the cooler from where it sat hovering over the bath, dragging it back downstairs, unsurprised to find that Nick had already taken care of the light.

Troy guessed Nick wasn't going to bed just yet.

He headed into the kitchen, stepping over the molehill of horse poop that had dried and that Alicia had semi-massacred in her probing earlier, and sought a jug, filling the cooler with a bit of water.

Considering the weak pressure, it wasn't quick.

But he eventually got it done and carried it outside past the two toward the garage.

Alicia's words made Nick wonder and marvel at how incredibly the unreal interlaced with reality in her mind. It was seamless. She didn't get scared at things that would make many people sprout grey hair. She was calm, collected, and seemed in control, to some extent. It could waver many times this night, from good to bad and worse – depending on what she had taken. But for now, he looked at her with admiration and a little envy. She was not collapsing with weariness any time soon, as far as he could tell. He needed a pick-me-up himself if he was going to keep up. He needed to locate the med kit. Jeep. It had to be in the Jeep.

"What did they give you, Alicia?" he ventured, wondering if she even remembered it. "Was it a pill, or a shot? Before the red tent, or in it, maybe? Do you remember?"

She looked at him, frowning in thought, trying to go through her memories like a slide-show.

"Water. I drank some water. They tried to feed me bread, but I wouldn't have it. And then… some sort of tea. I didn't want that either, but they held me down. It made me feel sick."

That much she remembered. Or maybe it was just that the nausea had never truly left. She drew her legs to her chest and rested her chin on her knees, staring into the fire.

"I tried to make them give you back to me," she whispered. "I think I almost made it. Cause they were scared when I threatened to kill myself. But then…" Those stupid tears re-appeared again. She wiped them on her knees.

"The spirits distracted me. I'm sorry, Nick. I should have tried harder."

Nick absorbed the information hungrily, and though it was a bit of work to get his mind gear rolling, he tried his best to focus on analyzing what she recollected.

A tea could mean a herb, or a bunch of herbs. There were a lot of herbs that made people hallucinate. Belladonna for one. Some mushrooms – which he doubted it was. Some inner feeling, intuition guided him toward the herbal solution.

Her apology made him smile. He loved her so much it hurt. All that tenderness he felt for her threatened to bust his chest open. "You saved me just in time, Lisha," he said softly, an encouraging, affectionate smile claiming his mouth. "You saved me out there. I should be sorry you had to."

Another thing came to his mind, and he tried to steer back to the subject.

"Tell me about those spirits. What did you see?"

Alicia sniffled a little, holding onto his words like a life-line, so grateful he wasn't angry or disappointed. So grateful he was here with her.

The topic of the spirits made her straighten and she looked at him with a growing smile, eyes glistening with joy.

"Fireworks. All sorts of colors bursting all around me in the air. Sparkling. Dancing. Playing. It was beautiful, Nick. I wish you could have seen it."

Nick smiled at how her eyes sparkled when she described. Like she was a kid again, with no coldness and apathy she had gained in years of high school, collecting all her will to make a break away from home (and mom; and him with all his shit). That kid in her hadn't died, after all. It was a bit sad that the drug had pulled it out, but it was warming his heart to watch, nonetheless.

"I'm sure it was awesome," he said, smiling. "What else did you see? Tell me everything. Be my eyes."

 _Be my eyes._ Alicia liked this game. She closed her eyes and tried to remember all the vivid things she had seen today, to share her experience with her brother who looked like he could use some joy.

"I saw… the stars. They were sparkling, too. Whispering to me all sort of secrets. And there were flowers. Really pretty flowers that swayed. And fruit that tasted sweeter than anything I've ever had before. And then…"

She frowned, trying to remember.

"Then I couldn't move, because they had tied me to the altar, and the men were looking at me and licking their lips, and their eyes were cruel and hungry, and all around me people died, Travis, Matt, Jake, Dad… And they were angry and it was all my fault, and then they put you at my feet and I tried to wake you but you couldn't because you were dead too, and your face wasn't your face anymore, you were one of them, the infected, and they wanted me to hurt you but I couldn't."

Words fell from her lips like an unstoppable avalanche, her breath hitching in her throat and getting stuck there, struggling to free itself so she could inhale. Her eyes were wide and panicked, her heart throbbing so hard and fast she worried it was going to burst through her chest. She clutched at her throat in despair, trying to dislodge that suffocating sensation.

"The world is moving too quickly and I can't keep up, Nick, and Jake is hiding in the dark and he is so angry with me because I didn't come here with him. Because I came here with Troy and you, and I left him behind to rot."

She started so well, so excited, and then it trickled into an anxiety attack. Nick hated seeing her so restless and scared and worried at the same time. It felt like too much for just one heart to handle.

He reached for her and gently pulled her to him to embrace in hope of helping her calm down.

"It's okay, Lisha, it's okay," he murmured, kissing her head. "Jake's not mad. He could never be mad at you. You meant a lot to him. He wants you to be safe, and he knows you're safe with us. He knows it. I want you to breathe deeper. Close your eyes, breathe in, then out. In… and out. Then the world will slow down as you do, okay? Try it. It's gonna be fine."

The tirade she had poured on him played in his head, bits and pieces repeating as he searched for answers, skimming through things he knew. It sounded like some potent thing. He knew some mushrooms could be like that. But the tea… It made him think of that small cactus Indians liked to use. Mostly shamans. It had to be it. They had been using it for generations for vivid visions like these. They aimed to talk to spirits. And here it all was. A trip of a lifetime without addiction.

She felt warm, almost feverish. It could happen after lots of drugs. It should pass later.

Alicia didn't believe him, because she knew he would always downplay his own misery in order to protect her, but she didn't have it in her to fight him on it at the moment. She shuffled close to his side again, trying to share in his warmth before the temptation of the fire in front of them became too strong, and she scooted closer to that instead, wishing she could press herself up against the warm metal oven to rid herself of this dreadful chill that seemed to have taken root in her bones.

She reached for the flames with her uninjured hand, lips parting in a smile at the promise of the fire licking across her fingers, maybe even weaving in and out between them like serpents. That reminded her…

"Troy drank the rainbow snake. It might make him pee colors. But I don't think it's dangerous."

Nick didn't stop her as she shifted closer to the fireplace, but when she started reaching into the flames, he pulled her back to him, wrapping his arms around her.

"Don't try to touch the fire," he warned. "It can burn you, and you won't even notice. What rainbow snake are you talking about?"

She grinned, suddenly feeling mischievous, no longer worried about Troy's potential anger.

"It was in the water. He drank it. I didn't, cause… I'm smart."

"Nice," he commented, amused.

Once more she reveled in his warmth as he wrapped her in his embrace, and she returned the favor, looping her arms around his waist and letting her face rest in the crook of his neck. It was nice. Rare, but nice. They hadn't really cuddled since they were kids.

Thinking that they'd had enough time alone to get reacquainted and through the tough part of what they might again need to talk about to heal, Troy summoned the horse over with a click of his tongue. The horse is reluctant, forcing him to go over and fetch it like a disobedient child. He got it. It didn't like being caged in such a confined space. Animal or no animal. No one would.

But what other option was there? Troy knew for certain there was dead out there—in the area—and only a matter of time before they funneled over this way and had their first taste of horsemeat.

Troy petted its muzzle, murmuring the same reassurances Jake had plied him with a kid when things had become pretty nasty in the house and he needed to silence his little brother.

It appeared to work on the animal and before long it was greedily suckling in the water Troy'd provided it with.

"Sleep tight, Fido," he said in goodbye, closing the door on it again for the night.

Troy eyed the lump of black he knew was the jeep, and started back to the porch, deciding at last minute to retrieve the cooler box from it with the food.

Alicia had said she wasn't hungry, but considering how high she was that could change as soon as she actually caught a whiff of some. One of the things he remembered doing consistently the night Nick introduced him to his own. Like you couldn't get enough until the nausea kicked in. And then you started all over again.

Troy'd never felt hungry like that before and he never wanted to again.

Troy carried the cooler inside, being careful to slide it around the door and set it down beside the couch where Nick and Alicia were huddled together.

"Hungry?"

Alicia shook her head a no in response to Troy's offer of food. She was feeling full, like she had done nothing but eat all day. She leaned against her brother, eyes on the fire while the two talked, feeling that delightful sense of calm and serenity settle over her. She felt safe.

"I'm not," Nick responded, not certain he could keep anything down if he tried. On the brink of passing out, eating didn't seem like a good idea. There were other options, however, that could help.

"Is the med kit still in the car?"

"Yeah, it is."

Troy considered Nick. He was still covered in blood and he'd struggled to get inside from the junker car, but that could have been old and new bruises coming together to cripple him temporarily.

"I'll get it," Troy added, assuming Nick wasn't going to tell him if anything was wrong anyway since he'd been sucking it up since Troy pulled him out of the water.

Otto snaked his way through the doorway again, jogged to the jeep and unlocked the door.

It took him ten minutes to find the kit in the dark.

As he slipped back inside, Troy tossed it down onto the couch beside Alicia where Nick could help himself to it or she could hand it to him and picked up the cooler to carry it to the kitchen.

He set it down where he knew the table to be and then headed upstairs to the bathroom.

When he returned he had the lantern in hand and the light was adding to the yellowy glow of the fire.

Nick noted where he put the med kit, but didn't move away from Alicia. He wasn't going anywhere until she had to move. With her unpredictable high, he wasn't taking any chances.

Alicia subtly watched Troy haul a large container inside and briefly felt curious about its contents, considering going to explore but decided against it because Nick's arms still encircled her and he seemed reluctant to let go. So she stayed where she was a while yet, liking that Troy brought the lantern back downstairs to chase away the shadows created by the fire.

She reached for it, silently demanding he give it to her to hold.

There were only the three of them there now, no unwanted dead, no additional voices. They could relax. In theory anyway. It seemed her two companions found that hard.

"Will they come for us again?" she asked, gaze consumed by the light. "The people at the lake?"

"If any of them survived and has balls enough to find us?" Troy said. "I wouldn't doubt it. They were batshit crazy and revenge is a go to emotion that everyone can appreciate."

He surely did and if it were him, that's exactly what Troy would do—would have done—had Nick not returned tonight.

He eyed Alicia's outstretched hand a moment and then gave her the lamp, heading toward the kitchen area where he'd left the cooler so that he could scratch around for a can opener.

Unless they already had one?

They had grabbed so much over the last day and a half that he hadn't made an inventory yet.

"Those who didn't survive will come, too," Nick remarked lazily and shot a glance toward the door to make sure Troy pushed the couch back against it.

Alicia trailed her fingers over the lantern, watching it in deep concentration, though she had heard everything the boys had said. It should be a frightening thought – it _was_ a frightening thought, but it didn't elicit any other reaction in her at the moment than a severe thoughtfulness. She definitely didn't want to be separated from Nick and Troy again, but she did trust them to find her if she was lost. Or she would find them. But in the hands of those people… Who knew if she would even be able to.

"If they come here, if they catch me, you need to put a bullet in my head," she said serenely, placing the lantern down on the floor beside Nick and herself. "If I am unable to do so myself."

"If it gets to that point and there is no way out. You got it," Troy supplied, smiling to himself, amused by the macabre lingering and the request itself.

He'd never thought of Alicia as a defeatist. Then again, since she'd taken up with Jake he hadn't thought about her much at all. Not in a sense that wasn't purely sexual and self-gratifying.

Troy found a can opener and a spoon, removing a can of something from inside the cooler—not bothering to be fussy—and headed to make himself comfortable on the abandoned couch.

"No one's gonna catch you," Nick put in tiredly. "Not tonight."

Nick hated to think about tomorrow. Were there any survivors? Would they find their way back here and try to avenge their tribe? How many dead would come down the hills during the night? Would any go for the ranch? Had George and his people doubled their guard?

Had Katie told them the truth? Would they meet the trio tomorrow with guns rather than hello because of Timmy and whatever else Troy did to Katie Nick didn't know about?

"You locked the horse?" Nick asked Troy, pushing the thoughts aside.

Alicia smiled at Troy from across the room, pleased by his promise, and shifted in Nick's arms to get to her feet. She suddenly realized she needed to pee something fierce, and moved for the stairs, confident she would be able to climb them this time with no problem due to the current lack of interference from Jake. She still held onto the railing, though, and paused to watch the two a beat before continuing on her journey.

"You both need stitches? Should I bring the kit from upstairs?"

She couldn't remember if Troy had brought it down with him or if there had even been a kit at all. But she assumed.

"Both the horse and I are taken care of," Troy said, addressing both their questions at once. He offered each a lazy smile and busied himself with the can.

After opening it, he dropped the can opener onto the sofa and dug in with the spoon, taking large mouthfuls until it was finished and he was feeling less inclined to throw up.

It had been a long freaking day.

"No, just bring yourself," Nick said, hoping he could forgo following her around even to the bathroom. If that was where she suddenly wanted to go. He could think of nothing else she would need up there. "Or I'll go looking for you in five minutes."

When she went up the stairs, he let himself lie down on the floor, relaxing his strained and almost numb back, trying him best to not close his eyes and lose the connection to reality. It felt very fragile and thinning.

Alicia heard Nick's warning and disregarded it. It would take as long as it needed to, and he'd just have to accept that.

Finding the bathroom in the dark was harder than she had anticipated, but she managed. She made use of the toilet and turned the faucet on to wash her hand, keeping the bandaged one out of the way as per Doctor Otto's instructions.

Troy and Nick's voices rose to the second floor as she exited the bathroom. She couldn't hear what they were saying but they sounded serene enough. They didn't need her back at once. Which was fortunate because someone else had caught her attention now. Matt. He was standing in the hallway looking like, well, himself. He smiled at her, that gentle smile that always made her heart flutter. It still worked.

"We should leave tomorrow," Nick told Troy. "After I return the horse."

"You're returning the horse tomorrow?" Troy asked, setting aside the finished cans. "They already have the girl, they don't need Fido. How can you trust they're not going to end up eating him?"

Nick turned his head to look at him to see if he was for real or having Nick on.

"They have the girl because she's their family, Troy. And no, they're not gonna eat the horse. He's safer there than with us, I thought it was decided. When did that change?"

"It changed when they drugged you and stole you away in the middle of the night."

Troy thought it was obvious and why was he even explaining himself?

"Why didn't you? You that desperate to believe that there is good in the world that you can't see that those people are weak? That even if they didn't know anything about the children, which I don't believe, that they're going to get Fido and themselves killed."

"Are you seriously shitting me now, Troy? Those people aren't bad, no matter what that pagan gang got into their kids' heads. They'll handle it now that they know. And they're not weak. They're armed, they have been taking care of themselves all this time. They take care of their horses and their cattle, you saw that. You can't downplay all that just because Katie got confused and they manipulated her into helping."

"They did all of that under their noses. What did they think happened to those other people? That they just crept out in the middle of the night like you supposedly did? Once is a coincidence. Twice is a plan. You're naive if you think otherwise, Nick. You trust too easily."

Which was weird considering how he'd come into Broke Jaw Ranch. Troy guessed the reception was different and that he had reason to be suspicious but it shouldn't matter. Even a smiling face can be a devil.

* * *

It would have been near impossible to find her way in the dark, but with Matt guiding her it was easy. He stood out like the moon in the night sky. She followed him down the hallway and into one of the bedrooms, finding him at the window overlooking the trees behind the cabin.

"I'm sorry I left." She still thought of that some days, how she hadn't been there for him when he became sick, how Mom had come to drag her away when she tried.

Alicia leaned against the windowsill and watched him uncertainly. This was not how he had looked in the red tent. He had been rotting then, like all the other infected. But now, he was perfect.

He reached out to trace the shape of her tattoo on her arm, and she closed her eyes, reveling in the tingling-sensation that spread across her skin at his touch.

Matt didn't say anything. He just smiled that smile, showing her everything was okay. She could see him now even when her eyes were shut. Like his image had been nailed to the back of her eyelids.

"I missed you."

"That's how it goes nowadays," a male voice said, and Matt crumbled to the floor in front of her. She startled and fell back, staring wide-eyed at the figure that had just appeared. Jack. The mistake that almost got everyone killed. The mistake _she_ made.

"That one dies," Jack said nonchalantly, gesturing to Matt before setting his gaze on her. "This one lives."

* * *

"I don't have to trust them!" Nick said. "That's the point. I'm not gonna stick around, so I don't have to get any deeper into whatever is going on in there. So why are you riding me about it?"

"I thought you cared about the horse and his survival. Now you're saying you're willing to throw him at them just to make your life easier? That's a bit selfish, isn't it, Nick?"

Troy twisted on the couch so that he could lie down and used the armrest as a pillow.

"She's been up there awhile. You trust she hasn't drowned in the toilet in her state?"

Nick heaved a sigh and winced, getting up.

"If you wanna keep the horse now – just say so. No need to bullshit me about how I'm being selfish. Not after you were gonna release him into the wild from the start."

"I don't want to keep the horse. You did. That's why he's here. That's why you didn't want to leave him out there to survive for himself."

Troy didn't really care what he did with the horse but he wasn't a fan of those people even if Rosemary appeared sickeningly wholesome.

Nick started up the stairs, accelerating the pace as he could, getting worried.

"Alicia? You done there?"

* * *

"You left me too," Jack said, inching closer. "Did you miss _me_?"

"No. Why would I?" Alicia replied honestly, subtly feeling the windowsill behind her with both hands, looking for something, anything, she could use to defend herself if she needed it.

He looked disappointed, if only for a second.

"You reeled me in and just let me go," he said, closing the space between them and bracing his hands against the window on either side of her head. "I didn't want to be let go."

There was something wrong with this Jack, just like there'd been something wrong with Jake. He seemed angrier, more bloodthirsty. He was a liar and a thief and he had gotten people killed. Possibly even done some of the killing himself. But Alicia had never truly been scared of him. His friends, yes, but not Jack.

She was scared now.

"You reeled _me_ in," she reminded him, feeling like they'd had this conversation before. They had, hadn't they? "You lied, you manipulated me, you–"

"Alicia? You done there?"

Alicia frowned, briefly confused by the new voice coming through. It was Nick. Jack looked back over his shoulder.

"Keep him away," he murmured in a low tone. "Wouldn't want him to end up like Matt, would we?"

"I'm fine," Alicia called back to Nick after a moment of hesitation, her fingers locking around something hard and heavy behind her. Some sort of candlestick?

"Good girl." Jack's eyes traveled back to her. He smiled, but there was no warmth in his eyes. "Now, where were we?"

* * *

"She doesn't sound fine," Troy supplied without turning to look at him. "Take the light."

Nick didn't go back for the light. He only had so much steam, he had to ration it.

Alicia was in one of two bedrooms upstairs, her back pressed into the windowsill. Even with all the poor light coming from behind her, he could see she was scared. By her posture, by how she clutched something like a weapon in her hand.

"Alicia?" he asked in a soft voice. "Are you okay? What are you seeing?"

"You need to leave," she told Jack, trying to look up at him and meet his gaze without letting her head fall back.

"You don't get to be here. You don't have the right–"

Jack's palms slammed against the window, making it tremble.

"I have every right!" he bellowed, and she cowered, hating herself for it.

She clutched the candlestick in her good hand, and a part of her was just waiting for the opportunity to use it. He noticed and smiled sardonically.

"You gonna kill me, Alicia? Are you a killer like your Mom?"

Nick's voice pierced the room. He sounded close, but she couldn't see him past Jack's towering form.

"Nick, I can handle this." It was more of a hope than knowledge, but she didn't want him involved. He was already hurt and exhausted, even if he didn't want to admit it. He wouldn't last a single round against Jack in his current state.

"Go back downstairs. Please."

Nick could barely see her face, but felt she wasn't looking at him, rather at something she was seeing between her and him. Something close, so close she was readying to strike it.

"Come with me, Alicia," Nick said. "They can't touch you. Even if it looks like it, no one can hurt you in here. Come to me. Just come here. You'll see."

Jack didn't say anything and he shook his head. A silent warning not to try anything. But if he was going to hurt her wouldn't he have done so already? He'd yet to even touch her…

Alicia swallowed and tried to gauge the distance between Jack's arms and herself, if she would be able to slip out from under one of them without him catching her. He was watching her.

"Don't even think about it," he growled, but she tried anyway, darting under him and whirling around, hurling the candlestick at Jack. There was a strange crashing-sound as it hit him in the forehead and he dropped like a sack of potatoes, merging with the dark floor.

Neither had come down and Troy could hear some form of talking happening upstairs. But he couldn't tell if it was good or bad or if Nick needed his assistance.

He listened awhile longer and then sat up and eased off the couch. Bending to pick up the light and rushing for the stairs when suddenly there was a crash as something or someone was thrown.

He reached the top of the landing in three strides and found them in zero time, cutting away the shadows and darkness with ease.

"Everything okay?"

Nick caught Alicia in his arms and held her. She trembled.

"You're okay, it's okay," he murmured to her. "It's okay, it's gone now."

Nick's arms slid around her protectively, but she couldn't find it in her to relax until she was absolutely certain Jack had vanished. She stared at the floor for several seconds, only averting her gaze when Troy appeared behind her brother.

"It's getting very crowded in here," she murmured, not a reference meant for either of them, but for the dead stalking the shadows.

"Except the window," Nick said to Troy when the latter caught up behind him bringing his lantern with him, spilling a yellow circle of light under their feet. "Who were you battling this time, Alicia?"

Alicia shot them both a look of incredulity and confusion. Hadn't they seen for themselves? Though they'd never met Jack, had they? Not even Nick. They wouldn't recognize him.

"It doesn't matter," she said. " _He_ doesn't matter."

Unless he came back. She imagined he would be very angry now.

"Did we lock the door?"

The ghosts. _Jake_. Right. It was going to be a long night. It made Troy wish they knew what the cult had given her so they could have a timeframe on how long this madness would persist.

"I'll double check and take care of things downstairs," he assured, setting down the lantern outside the bedroom door where it could continue to provide them with light. "Maybe we should try to get some sleep?"

The last statement he directed at Nick as a form of encouragement meant for his sister. Not that he didn't need it but whatever she was suffering might be better slept off.

"I'll be back."

And with that he headed back downstairs.

Nick picked up the lantern and steered Alicia toward the stairs.

"You sure you don't wanna sleep? Maybe at the fireplace if you promise not to stick your hands in it."

"Maybe." Now that her fear had faded somewhat, the world was becoming fuzzy. It was spinning, making her feel sick. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to lie down for a while.

Downstairs, she made use of Nick's suggestion and curled up on the floor in front of the fireplace, lazily watching the flames, hoping they would lull her to sleep.

Troy had moved the couch into position beside the door and placed the cooler on top of it for added weight.

 _Now what?_

The night was drawing to a close and with nothing more than to babysit the high one, there wasn't much else to do. Pity they hadn't found any decent books and Troy hadn't had much time to revisit his journal.

He smiled though, somewhat amused by Alicia as she curled up in the middle of the floor like a cat.

Why hadn't Nick just tucked her in where she was?

Nick settled against the wall when Alicia lay down at the fire, and peered into the window. It was still pitch dark outside. Perhaps two AM or so. Still a while to go for Alicia's high.

"You haven't taken care of yourself yet," Troy reminded, picking up the medical kit Nick had left abandoned on the couch, tossing it toward him once he met Troy's gaze and shifted to help himself to the last of Alicia's water.

Nick caught the med kit as it slid across the floor.

"There's almost nothing to take care of," he said, and picked himself up to get another half-full bottle of water from the table. He took two swallows, then opened the kit for inspection. The baggy with pills was still there, tucked in the corner. He took one and tossed it in his mouth, washed it down with another swallow of water, then closed the kit.

Troy watched him help himself to another bottle of water and pop his pills. He wondered if Nick did it because his aches were catching up or because of he was feeling envious of Alicia's high.

Or if maybe it was just a comfort.

Sleep didn't come. In fact, Alicia couldn't remember ever feeling more awake. But it was okay to not sleep. Cause there were so many beautiful things to look at in the fire. The spirits were there, sparkling and twirling happily, as if they hadn't minded their disciples failing their mission. Or maybe they hadn't? Maybe she was dead and this was the after-life.

Alicia glanced over at Nick and smiled. If she got to spend it with him, it wasn't so bad. It wasn't bad at all.

God, she loved him. She loved him so much she could barely breathe. She got up off the floor and strode over to him.

"I love you," she told him, hugging him tightly. "You've always been my favorite."

Even now, just being close to her big brother made her feel safe. Like nothing could touch her. He'd always had that power. Ever since they were little. He made the monsters go away.

There was movement in her line of sight and she turned her head slightly to see Troy. She released her Nick and moved to him, reaching up to catch his face between her hands, smiling up at him.

"You're so fucking pretty. You need to… wear less shirts."

It seemed important that he knew.

Troy was readying to ask Nick about the pills out of curiosity and with nothing else to do when his sister unfurled and leaped to her feet to rush to him. Well, not at a full run but at a pace that was considered frantic and possibly cute.

Not that Troy used that word to describe anything – ever.

And then it turned, allowing Troy to grin as she took his face into her hands and once again notched his ego. Not that he didn't think that he was attractive. Who didn't like appreciation? Especially misplaced and potential awkward compliments that would probably horrify her the next day once those high ground morals swept back into place and could be held over her head for very many months/years to come?

Troy had a witness now.

"Had I known you were this attracted to me I might have considered a move or flex sooner."

"I'd rather you tried it when she's doing her own thinking," Nick warned with an amused smirk, leaning his head back against the wall.

"You're gonna flex?" Alicia asked, hopeful as my hands and gaze fell to his biceps, shamelessly feeling the contours of his arms. They were nice arms to have.

"I'm not sure Nick would appreciate that." Troy laughed lightly at the fact that she'd taken his sarcasm so literally. The touch wasn't terrible either. He let that go on for as long as needed.

Why had Alicia been so angry with him these past few days, she wondered. It didn't make sense to be angry with someone so… tall.

She turned her head to look at Nick, surveying the room with brief confusion, wondering who he was talking to. Was he being visited by people from the past as well? No, that couldn't be it. They'd said she was high, and Nick wasn't. She was just high. She should try to remind herself of that so she wouldn't do anything stupid or get too scared.

"Nick? When will the world stop spinning?"

Nick glanced at the window once again, and shrugged. "I can't give you a solid timeframe, but it's a long run."

Both their answers were discouraging. Alicia tried not to pout, she really did, but may have failed slightly. It was such a strange feeling. She knew she wasn't right, could even understand the logic that this was all because of some sort of narcotics, and yet at the drop of a hat all that knowledge faded away and everything they told me wasn't real _became_ real.

And so now she began to doubt. She doubted herself, and she doubted them. What if this moment right now, this relatively peaceful and pleasant moment, was just another part of her imagination? What if Jack and Jake and Matt had been real, and Troy and Nick weren't really here at all?

"How am I supposed to tell the difference?" It was more of a question to herself than anyone else. "How do I know what's real and what isn't?"

Troy didn't have extensive experience in that area and he didn't want any but the part that Nick had told him that night of experimentation was that you needed to go with it.

Fighting it made it worse. A whole lot worse.

And maybe that's where she was in her stage of ecstasy?

He reached for her arm and pinched her.

"Feel that? That's real."

"Ow!" Alicia hissed, instinctively turning and smacking Troy's arm, glowering until she fixed her gaze on Nick to hear him out.

Nick contemplated if there was any good way to tell her or teach her. There probably wasn't. When you were hallucinating, there was barely anything to help you distinguish whether it was real or not. Even if you're told otherwise, your brain doesn't listen.

"Troy and I are real, right here with you," Nick said, thinking of nothing better. "The rest might not be as it seems."

They were just words. They proved nothing. But Alicia supposed she would trust Nick, whether imaginary or real.

She nodded, acknowledging their legitimacy.

"Well, I still say your "real" selves look dead tired, and you both should get some sleep."

The smack stung for about half a second, lips twisting into a lazy grin as Troy slowly stepped away from her to make himself at home on the armrest.

"And leave you to burn down the house while we do? I don't know so much about that. The only way that's happening for me is if the fire is out, you have no lighters on you and you're upstairs, too."

"You can go and sleep, Troy, we'll be fine," Nick said. It probably would be true – the pill didn't solve all his problems, but it dulled the aches and gave him a little more steam to run on. It started to seem he could actually last some time more.

Burn the house down? That seemed entirely uncalled for, considering Alicia hadn't tried any of the sort all evening. Or indeed, ever.

"So little trust," she muttered, moving to claim a seat next to Nick and explore the medical kit, sorting the band-aids from the smallest to largest.

"Get real. I'm not the one that needs sleep after what happened today. The two of you are. If anyone should be closing their eyes and recovering, it's the two of you."

Troy didn't have to comment on the trust thing because frankly, he didn't trust her and hadn't been in a situation where she probably trusted him either. Not outside what they did to help Nick, that was.

"You want to leave tomorrow, right? So, if that's the plan, you should at least move to the next location with a clear head."

So that this time they could actually see trouble coming and practice caution with action if need be.

Nick heaved a sigh. "I dunno what happens tomorrow and if we're all fit to leave or not," he confessed. "But she won't be sleeping while she's on it – at least I don't think so. And leaving her to it can be a bad idea, so I'm not going to do that."

"You've a hole in your stomach," Alicia told Troy without looking up from her work. "Holes are draining."

He needed as much sleep as Nick did. They were both just too stubborn to admit it. Must be a man thing.

Listening to what they were both saying made her feel a pang of guilt, like she was the cause they couldn't properly take care of themselves. She looked at Nick, observing him a moment as she put the band-aids back in the kit.

"Maybe you should just tie me up?" she told him calmly. "So you can sleep?"

Troy glanced down at his stomach although he knew he wouldn't find any hole there. Something visceral drove him to do it, some kind of voice in the back of his head that wanted to find reason for her insanity and test it himself.

He brushed it off and moved to pick up another piece of clothing like he had done this morning. Another cotton thing that was easy to rip apart without the need of a knife.

He pulled it into strips, knotting the ends together to give it length and held it up.

Even if it was her suggestion, he had taken the initiative but he wasn't going to force it on her.

"I won't make it tight."

Not as he had done to Katie anyway.

"You're not doing that to her," Nick said, shooting him a glare. "Go upstairs and sleep if you need to, but we're not tying her up. It's not gonna help anything and can make things worse when visions change. If it's what I think it is, better leave her be."

Alicia watched Troy work, fascinated by the sound of tearing fabric. When he showed off the results, she put her wrists together and held them out, completely at ease with the idea until Nick spoke up.

She turned her head to look at him, apologetic.

"Nick, you won't get any rest if you watch me all night. You're gonna make yourself sick."

Nick's glare did nothing. Not that Troy didn't expect it. Like Madison, they were like frothing rabid bound dogs when it came to protecting their family. A sentimentality Troy admired.

 _Still._

Troy walked over to where she was sitting and knelt in front of her, winking as he took her wrists into his hand and gently wound the cotton around them, weaving them into a bracelet.

"She's a big girl, Nick. She can decide for herself."

Alicia let Troy encircle her wrists with the makeshift rope, watching how he did it, suspecting he had some sort of experience with knots from before. Maybe he'd been a boy scout as a child? Or maybe it was the military training?

Nick ripped his hands off her and threw the piece of fabric away.

"I know what I'm saying, and you don't know squat about what it is like to be where she is right now," he stated, glaring at Troy. "Your little adventure at El Bazar was nothing compared to mescaline. Nothing. So stop pushing your shit when I tell you to lay off. Just lay off and mind your own business. I know what I'm doing here, and you don't. So let me handle what I know. Go. And sleep."

Thoughts that faded from Alicia the moment Nick swept Troy's hands away and ripped the fabric off her wrists. The anger in his voice was not something she had often encountered. Not when he was clean and sober anyway. It didn't scare her, but it did make her feel like absolute shit for upsetting him.

She put her hand on his arm, feebly trying to soothe him. "I'm sorry. We won't do it. I'm sorry."

Irritation spiked like red hot lava and for the second time that day Troy found himself annoyed with his inflexibility to make things easier.

There was barely any attempt to meet him halfway.

Troy let his hands fall away from her wrists, although given his fatigue, he could have very easily overpowered them both.

Another time. Another place.

He eased off the floor, dusting his knee for effect while she made her pleas and headed for the stairs.

Once he found his way into his short-term bedroom, he didn't bother to undress, flopping onto his back on the mattress, sluggishly giving into the jolt of ensnaring exhaustion.

* * *

"You're not the one to apologize for it, Alicia," Nick said, slightly relieved to see Troy following the advice at least this time. "You're doing better than some would, tying you up is not an answer."

Tying him up never ended with anything good for Nick. It felt wrong. It would have made things easier, but not for Alicia, and that had to be the priority in this.

Troy didn't get it. Nick didn't really expect him to. He wasn't there yet. He possibly wouldn't get it for a long time, if ever. And that was a sad thought.

There was confrontation in the air and Alicia didn't like it. It made her feel uncertain, unsure of what to do, how to act, what to say.

Troy retreated upstairs without another word to either of them, and that felt wrong, too. Made her nervous. For some reason it filled her with the same unease she'd felt whenever Mom and Dad would fight.

"Maybe it's over now," she said quietly when they were alone. "I feel okay."

Nick shook his head instead of replying. It wasn't going to be over for a while.

She leaned back against the wall beside Nick, pulling her legs to her, eyeing her bare feet thoughtfully.

"I miss nail polish. My toes look weird without it."

She wriggled them for good measure to prove her point and pulled her feet close for inspection, tracing the numerous tiny cuts and scrapes at her soles with a finger.

Her comment made him laugh quietly.

"I'm not a good adviser on that," he admitted. "But if we ever find some nail polish – it's yours. How about that? We won't let Troy claim it."

Alicia grinned, throwing her brother a sidelong glance.

"I'll fight him to the death. Especially if it's black. Black goes with everything."

The red lines beneath her feet came alive, slowly intertwining and connecting, like branches on a tree. She blinked slowly, watching. It was a soothing view. But she could make it better.

She used her good hand to press her fingernails into the wounds, cutting just enough for a little bit of blood to appear.

"I bleed color," she whispered happily, repeating the process, in awe of how the red mixed with blues and yellows and greens. Her feet were a painting. "Is that why you became addicted? Because it helped you see beauty?"

Her new fixation made Nick wince. It wasn't all that amazing how pain still evaded her, but it would come back with a bang after the good old peyote left her mind.

He took her wrists gently, pulling them away from her feet.

"That's gonna hurt later, Alicia, don't do it. And, to be frank, my high was never really as high as yours right now. Yours makes mine look ridiculously boring. And it's a scary idea."

It suddenly occurred to him how their mom would freak out to see Alicia on drugs. He couldn't help a laugh.

Alicia didn't fight him when he tugged her wrists away, but she couldn't quite tear her gaze off the pretty colors either. It was hard to look away. His laughter broke the spell, though, and she turned to watch him instead, delighted by the slight smile on his face.

"Then why do you like it?"

In the back of her mind she knew it was a ridiculous question. Addicts didn't have to like their addictions, that's not how it worked. But she still felt curious.

"Does it make things… quiet?" she whispered and leaned in close as if divulging a secret. "Sometimes I'd like things to be quiet. Just for a little while."

Nick looked at her for a moment, debating whether he should just come up with something simple and lame or actually answer honestly. If he went for the latter, she could forget it all, and then… Well, maybe she didn't really want to know, anymore. She tried asking him in the beginning, but he could never really explain. He couldn't fully understand it, either. Not deeper than the lame 'it makes me feel good'. Now he felt he had a bigger picture, if he tried to uncover it from the depths of his mind and self-analysis.

"It does make things quiet," he agreed, studying her pretty face, her eyes that sparkled as though she went back to being six and eager for his company. It made him remember how he missed that feeling – of being needed by her, of being that one she always yearned to be around. "It also made things painless, distant, unimportant. It made me feel secure and safe. Like all troubles were too far away to ever reach me again. It was an escape to my comfort zone."

Alicia listened attentively and when he finished she nodded after processing the information he'd given her. She knew it had to be something like that. Mom's excuses of "he's just doing what the other kids are doing" and "he's testing boundaries and trying to get back at me" never really held up.

"Is it still hard?" she asked after a while, catching his hand in hers to trail a finger along the lines of his palm like she had done before. "Do you still crave it? Heroin?"

It was a question she probably would never have asked under different circumstances. Especially not in Mom's presence. But it felt easier now. Maybe this whole experience could lift some of the blinds from Nick's eyes and make him realize she was not as perfect as he thought she was.

She was like a kid in the way her brain worked now, as it seemed. She was asking questions that sounded simple enough but contained things only adult could grasp. Nick didn't know if she would process the answers like that or just take what she could at the moment from them. But he couldn't answer it with simple yes. It was too dumb, and it was nowhere close to a real answer. Not the way it felt for him.

Nick had some weird intuitive temptation to tell her what he thought could be the answer, or at least contain it, to some degree. It might be best to try while she was in her altered state of mind. It felt worth a try.

"After the ranch fell and you wanted to be on your own," he started, "Troy and I left you and went back to El Bazar in Mexicali. Mom and Strand were waiting for Daniel to come for Ofelia. Turned out Ofelia was bit during the whole herd situation. They found out on their way to the trading post. When we arrived, she was in a bad shape. Burning up, unconscious. Mom was devastated to learn you didn't come. She had a small breakdown and cried. I sent her to get some air and sat with Ofelia. There were pills next to her for the pain.

"And then, looking at those pills, I suddenly felt all of it, all of that need and yearning to just take it and escape. I suddenly felt so trapped, like there was no easy way out. It took me back to why I started it all to begin with. And I went for it. I even made Troy take some because it sucked to be alone with the guilt. With him, it was sorta different. It felt better for a while. It felt like I could breathe again. I took those damn pills so I could breathe again, Lisha. Because when mom cried in my arms, I felt I couldn't breathe, anymore. Like I was back in some trap no one else saw, but I felt it in my very bones.

"Next morning, I told her we would stay at the post for a while. And she gave me that look, that old look I knew so well. Like I chose to become trash again. And when she left for the dam and I stayed behind, I felt she took the trap with her. I felt good. If Troy didn't find out about the proctors' plans, we wouldn't have come."

He fell silent for a moment, wondering if it made sense to her as it did to him. Either way, it felt good to have said it.

"Being an addict stays forever, Lisha," he added. "The urge to dive back stays. That feeling of coziness keeps luring you back. But not so much when there's no reason for it around you. It's easier without it."

That was a lot of information at once, and it seemed she needed longer time to process it all than normal. She was silent for a long while, trying to sift through it all, realizing she might have to revisit this conversation later when her head was clear.

Alicia reached out and cupped his cheek with her good hand, smiling warmly and ensuring he met her gaze.

"I love you so much, Nick. And I'm glad you're letting me in, telling me stuff. It's important to me."

She paused, considering what he had said about Mom and suddenly feeling a little uncertain.

"Do _I_ make you want to use?"

Her response took a long while to cook. It was a lot to dump on her while she wasn't thinking in her usual manner, but now that he had, it felt right somehow. The way she reacted made him doubt she truly understood, but the question that followed proved she had absorbed more than it seemed.

Nick shook his head, smiling a bit sadly, feeling deeply responsible for her having an idea like that at all. It was unforgivable for him to make it possible for her to ever wonder about it.

"You never did, not once," he assured vehemently. "You're the one I failed most because you never ever deserved any of the crap you got from me. I had no right to put you through all of it. You're the best thing I ever had in life, Lisha. I'm so sorry for all the care and love you gave me for years that I couldn't return."

Those words meant more to Alicia than she could ever explain. It seemed to soothe some old and deep-rooted insecurity, brushed away some of the anger she had been carrying with her all this time.

"You're returning it now," she said, scooting closer to him so she could rest her head on his shoulder. "And I think I understand… a little. You were trying to get away from a place, a person, who made your life too hard. You just wanted to be free."

Alicia wasn't sure if that was what he'd been trying to tell her, but it made sense in her head.

Nick smiled with more sadness than humor. Now seemed horribly late to be giving her what he should've never stopped showering her with. But there was nothing he could do to fix the past. It would die with him.

"I just never had your patience," he admitted. "You were working for your freedom while I used the easy way that wasn't even a way - just an escape room. A temporary relief. But without it, I was drowning."

Alicia wrapped her arms around him, resting her forehead against the side of his head. She really wanted to take his sadness away, but she didn't know how.

"It's okay," she whispered, squeezing him. "I won't let you drown anymore. I'll keep you safe."

Nick chuckled softly. "Isn't it still my job to keep you safe? I'm not planning on evading that duty, anymore."

Alicia smiled at that, pulling away so she could toy with his hair, possibly braid it.

"We'll keep each other safe," she said. "And Troy too," she added as an afterthought in case he was listening in. She didn't want to hurt his feelings.

Her gaze drifted to the window and she stared out at the darkness, smiling when the stars outside began to twinkle brighter and brighter. Like disco lights.

"They're such show-offs. Should we go outside and dance?"

"We still don't know how many, if anyone, survived that night, and how long it would take the dead to find their way back here. We better stay indoors until the sun's up and high."

"Yes." She'd forgotten about the lake people for a moment. And, of course, Nick was right. It would be unsafe. But it also felt unbearable to remain sitting any longer, so she got to her feet to walk around the room, examining the walls and the pattern in the wood.

"Do you want to know a secret?" she asked absentmindedly and continued before he had a chance to answer. "The spirits don't care that the people failed. They don't care about blood. They just want to be talked about. And seen. Because if no one ever sees them, they forget that they are beautiful."

Nick gave an amused hem, watching her with lazy interest. "Yeah… It shouldn't be a secret."

She ran her fingers along the wall, trying to stay quiet and keep to herself, hoping it would make Nick relaxed enough to doze off. She knew he didn't want to leave her alone, but he needed rest.

She glanced at him every now and then, subtly so to not startle him, and eventually found that even though he had his eyes open it looked like he was sleeping. No… it looked like he was dead. Why wasn't he blinking?

She stared and waited, eyes glued to his until he finally lowered his lids and opened them again. The movement was so slow. Everything was moving slow. Even her. Like being underwater.

It was fascinating and scary at the same time. And cold. She was suddenly cold again.

She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering, continuing to face the wall so to not disturb her brother until she heard someone call out from upstairs. She couldn't decipher the words or even if the voice was male or female. But the only logical explanation would be Troy.

"Is he having a nightmare?" she whispered, more to herself than anyone else as she moved towards the stairs.

She cast a few bewildered gazes Nick's way, but he didn't ask what it was about. He kept the questions for when she would start doing some weird things.

He had to strain to make out her murmur, and frowned as she walked for the stairs.

"Why, you hear something? I didn't hear anything."

Alicia closed her eyes, uncertain now if she had heard something when Nick hadn't. She listened. And there it was again. Louder now, more urgent.

She dashed for the stairs, but even now it felt like she was moving slow. Like in a dream when you run and run but never get closer to your destination.

Her feet were rooted to the floor and she hadn't even made it past the second step.

"He's crying!" she called back over her shoulder. "He's in trouble!"

Nick watched his sister dash for the stairs, but something weird happened. She seemed to be unable to go past the second step. Like she had her feet glued to the wood. She was agitated by whatever she was hearing; it would have been comical had it been on TV.

Nick got to his feet and approached her.

"What you're hearing is not real, Alicia. He's sleeping. Quietly. Trust me, he's fine."

Alicia shook her head, maddened by the fact Nick couldn't seem to hear his friend calling for help, and simultaneously starting to doubt herself. But how could something so vivid not be real?

"We have to check," she implored with her brother, on the verge of tears as she, with great effort, tore her feet off the floor to climb the next step. "Please, Nick!"

She carried another foot to the next step with visible effort. He snuck past her and started up the stairs.

"I'll check, you stay here, okay? I'll be a second."

Alicia let him go, watching him ascend the last steps like a whirlwind. But when she could, she had to follow. So she did. She needed to see it for herself, to make sure whatever had gotten to Troy wouldn't get to Nick.

But when they made it to the room Troy had chosen he was sleeping peacefully, just as Nick had said. The moon outside shone in through the window and illuminated his face and chest. It was definitely him. And he appeared to be fine.

"I thought–" she whispered, stuck in some mess of shame and confusion. "I thought I heard–"

She stopped talking, eyes glued to Troy's chest, his stomach. There was something moving there. Subtly at first. And then… squirming.

She grasped the door jamb with one hand to steady herself, eyes wide and horrified as she watched something burrow its way out of Troy's stomach from the inside. It was the rainbow snake. It burst from him like a creature in a horror movie, blood and gore everywhere, and she quickly turned on her heel and darted for the bathroom, barely able to lean over the toilet before she vomited the water she'd been drinking earlier.

Troy had been awake for a while.

How couldn't he be with all that commotion going on downstairs? The conversation? The panicked yelling between one another and then the sudden barrage of footsteps as Alicia fled.

"Maybe we should take her for a walk," he suggested, sensing Nick was still there, scarcely trying to pretend that he was asleep anymore.

When she darted away, Nick made to follow, but heard her vomiting in the bathroom and lingered in the doorway, feeling exhausted to just be standing and knowing there were hours of it still coming.

Troy being awake didn't surprise him much.

"There can be the dead returning from the ritual site, as well as survivors. We can't risk it. Not until she's back from it."

"I know you can't take her out. I can. I've more energy at work. I can take her outside, walk her back and forth, just let her get some air on her face for a while and bring her back in."

That or he could shove her into the garage with the horse. A safe space, right? Four walls. No windows. A door. She'd be okay. Pity he'd taken Katie away. They could have kept each other company. Troy smirked at the image that painted. The sheer fantasy.

"It's safer for her to be indoors with me," Nick said.

"How long do you think she's going to keep going on whatever it is?"

Nick thought about it, and shrugged. "Mescaline high lasts from nine to twelve hours, give or take. So it can take up till noon. A bit less if I'm lucky. Get some sleep while you can."

He closed the door behind him as he went to check on Alicia.

Her stomach emptied fairly quickly. She guessed that made sense. She hadn't eaten anything in forever.

Alicia pushed herself away from the toilet and to the wall opposite, leaning back against it, unmindful of the tears on her cheeks, and entirely focused on the headache and sudden exhaustion of not understanding what the hell was going on.

She looked up when Nick appeared in the doorway, but didn't have it in her to give him a smile.

"Just put me to sleep," she begged. "Just knock me out."

Troy raised his right arm, pushing the button on the side of his watch to light it up and to see the time. He'd found a new battery a couple of months ago and it was still going strong.

2:45AM.

Nick really planned on staying up for another 9 – 10 hours?

Was he crazy?

Probably.

But he didn't want Troy's help so Troy didn't bother to get up and chase after the two of them. He released the watch, rolled onto his side and fluffed the pillow beneath his head a couple of times and tried to sleep again.

Nick leaned against the door frame, displaying a helpless smile.

"If there would be a safe way, I would've, but there isn't. You'll have to ride it out, it's how it is. I'm sorry you're not having fun with it. I wish I could help with that."

Alicia closed her eyes, feeling defeated. "Is he dead? Is Troy dead?"

So, she had seen something horrible. That must suck.

"Of course not. He's sleeping. He's fine. What you saw was in your head. It's the drug. Don't fight the visions, just let them be, let them pass."

"They're not visions to me."

 _And that is the truth of it_ , she thought. Just because it was happening in her head didn't mean it wasn't real.

"Why would anyone want to feel like this?"

"There are plenty of reasons to take mescaline - most of them are spiritual. It's used mostly by shamans to get closer to the spirits they work with. It's why they forced it on you. People take it for some spiritual insights they can't get the other way."

"Doesn't feel spiritual. Feels like that first night all over again. When everything was falling apart."

She hesitated a moment, trying to feel if she could move without throwing up again. After a few moments she used the wall to get back on her feet, swaying a little.

"Maybe I should just lie down for a bit."

"Sure. Let me help you."

Nick wrapped an arm around her waist, leading her to another room next to Troy's. He helped her on the bed, then found a plaid on a chair at the wall and covered her with it.

"Try to sleep."

Alicia curled up on the bed Nick led her to, shifting once or twice to get comfortable. "Thank you."

This all felt strangely familiar, only once more their roles had been reversed. Once upon a time she'd be the one to help Nick to his bed and watch him during the night to make sure he didn't have a seizure. Now he was the guardian.

She closed her eyes and like her brother had urged, tried to sleep.

Nick went to settle in the chair he picked the plaid from. Lying down next to her was dangerous. He would pass out and something might happen to her while he was out cold. He didn't need any surprises.

* * *

Alicia didn't sleep. It just wouldn't happen. But she remained in the bed for what felt like a long while, sometimes huddling under the blanket to try and get warm, other times flinging it off her because it felt like her skin was on fire.

Matt made an appearance, too. He hovered behind Nick's chair for some time before he was replaced with Mom.

The look of judgement and anger she sent Alicia had the latter pull the blanket up to cover her face. Alicia couldn't stand it.

There was a time the bed began to sway back and forth like a boat on the ocean, and it threatened to make her sick again. She leaned over the edge and dry-heaved a few times, not sure if she was grateful by the lack of contents in her stomach or not. Still, she felt painfully full. And it was such a rare sensation these days it might not be so bad in the long run.

By the time the sky started to change colors outside she was certain Nick had fallen asleep. His head hung towards his chest and his breathing was heavy.

She was thirsty, parched, actually, but she wouldn't wake him to ask for water. She might not have been feeling her best but her legs still worked. She could fetch some herself.

Alicia crawled out from under the blanket and silently headed for the door, closing it behind her so she wouldn't disturb Nick when she walked down the stairs.

She never made it to the stairs. Jake was blocking them. He looked different now. He looked like himself. Clean and rugged and with a crooked little smile that made him resemble Troy too much for her comfort.

"It's still early, Alicia," he said, voice hoarse from sleep. "Come lie down with me awhile."

He moved into the room closest to the stairs and after a while she followed, carefully opening the door to peer inside.

This was the Jake that had attracted her back at the ranch. He was lying on the bed, one arm beneath his head and he smiled at her, handsome and boyish and warm. Just like the day they'd first gotten together, he offered something she had been searching for – comfort and a sense of normalcy.

He patted the space on the bed beside him and she caved.

She went to him and lay down with her back to his chest, feeling his arm slip around her to hold her close, his breath on the back of her neck, his scent enveloping her. And she was at peace.

* * *

Troy was alerted to movement as soon as the bedroom door cracked open, half expecting to see Nick shamefacedly standing in the doorway with a want to tap out and change shifts.

Troy wouldn't blame him. Only it wasn't him standing there or making his way toward the bed to curl up on the mattress next to Troy with all the familiarity of a lover.

He opened his mouth to ask her what Alicia was doing but with the dark circles under her eyes, the faraway look as if she wasn't even seeing him or maybe seeing too much made the answer apparent.

She wasn't home. Not entirely.

Had she slipped away while he was counting the tiles? Had Nick fallen asleep? He'd be worried when he woke up and discovered she wasn't with him anymore. The only cause Troy could make for her freedom.

Still, like her compliments, the warmth radiating off her wasn't entirely unpleasant or something he wanted to discharge right away. Besides, she'd come to him, right? So how was he at fault for giving into temptation? A lure that had an arm involuntarily snake its way around her waist and hold her tighter against him.

 _A one-time thing._

When the drugs wore off so would her weird fixation with his prettiness and abs.

He smiled into her hair, inhaling slightly to take in her scent and closed his eyes again, allowing himself a brief reprieve from the chaos of their sibling rivalry.

Alicia closed her eyes and gave in to the comfort, the familiarity of his body so close to hers. Her days at the ranch had been far from happy, but it had given her something she needed at the time. It had given her a goal, something more to life than just surviving. And Jake had been a part of that.

He'd treated her well, respected her, seen her as an equal. And she had treated him fairly as well, she thought. But he'd wanted more than she could give him. He was a romantic. She may have been, too, once upon a time, but the apocalypse seemed to have killed that part of her.

And yet, here they were, having pushed all past differences aside to take comfort from one another.

Alicia thought she dozed off for a few minutes and it was nice. Peaceful. She wriggled back against Jake, brushing her fingers up and down his arm, smiling as he whispered to her that all was fine and that they'd be okay.

Troy's arm tightened around her as she wiggled deeper into the one armed embrace, her ass doing wondrous things to his crotch, unwittingly waking his little friend.

Troy guessed this was the point where most would frown upon what he was doing and call into question his ethics.

Not that he had any.

None anyone would defend.

He forced himself to let go of how easy it would be and how good it would feel to let his hands explore. Fingers lazily toying with the shirt he'd helped her button, index finger teasing an expanse of exposed skin before jerking away as if burnt.

He curled the hand into a fist and willed himself to relax.

It was surprisingly hard, but eventually his body conceded.

An hour and a half passed like that before he attempted to move, to remove his arm from beneath her body and make his escape to check the house and make sure Nick didn't wake up and have a heart attack.

Alicia wavered in and out of consciousness, feeling warm and safe and loved. It was the most peace she'd had for the last few days. Since before the horde overwhelmed the ranch.

And when she woke up finally and Jake was no longer there, that was fine, too. He'd moved on, finally. At peace as well.

She stretched and got up to open the window, basking in the sunlight like a cat, swaying lightly on her feet where she stood and breathing the fresh air.


	17. Chapter 17

**THE CHOSEN ONES — PART 7**

Alicia's dancing on the grass. Her hands are high, her hair flying, her white pagan dress is clean and looks like a ghost in the dark. The stars are twinkling over her. Nick's too tired to stand; he's sitting on the porch and watching her dance.

She stops spinning and smiles at him. She's laughing. "Look at them, Nick! They're here! The spirits. They want their snake back."

Before he understands what that truly means, something gleams in her hand. A silver spark.

A blade, he realizes as his blood runs cold. Terror soaks his bones, he can't move. He can't open his mouth and scream for her to stop. He's like a piece of the porch, unable to do anything to save her.

Laughing, she plunges the knife into her stomach and jerks, cutting through like ancient samurais doing their sick honor ritual—

Nick started awake, panting, his heart plummeting in his chest. Alicia was not in her bed. He jumped off the chair before he realized what his body was doing. His vision went black for a moment, he staggered and braced himself against the wall, waiting the haze out. When he saw the room again, Troy was in the doorway eyeballing him with a curious mien.

"She with you?" Nick asked. "I dozed off."

"Yeah," Troy stated. "She's fine. You're going to kill your neck like that trying to sleep in the chair. You should take the bed and get more sleep. She's going to be out for a while and if she's not – I'll take care of it."

He had already, hadn't he?

"I've slept for now."

Nick cracked a lopsided smile that didn't express any humor. "Gonna tie her up so she doesn't bother anyone? Nah, I'll manage from here."

He went past him and peeked into another bedroom. Alicia was at the window, sunlight spilt over her head. She seemed fine for now. He went to the bathroom, took a leak. The taps gave a thin trickle. He washed his face with cold water, then went downstairs. The quarter-full bottle of water was still next to the med kit on the floor. He popped another pill and took a sip washing it down.

Troy looked after Nick as he moved past Otto to head downstairs.

 _Does he not trust me?_

Troy was back to feeling exasperated and in desperate need of an outlet.

He cast a final look at Alicia and headed downstairs, immediately shifting the couch away from the door so that he could get out. He didn't waste much time on the porch before starting for the jeep.

Troy needed more weapons and a knife and then he was going to scout the area and make sure it was clear.

When Nick was back to the room upstairs, Alicia was still at the window, just like he left her.

"Seeing something pretty?"

"I feel like sunshine," she said, eventually turning to face him, smiling. "It's gonna be warm today."

She threw one last look at the bed to make sure Jake had really moved on, then closed the distance between her brother and herself to hug him.

"You slept," she said, pulling back to look at him with a sly grin. "I tricked you."

She seemed good and chipper, but he wasn't sure she was off the stuff yet.

He hugged her back, grateful that the nightmare was just that.

"Doesn't really feel like it," he murmured and gave her the bottle when she pulled away. "Drink. You need it."

She accepted the bottle and took a sip, then another, before handing it back to him. He still looked like he needed it more than she did, and the desperate thirst she had experienced earlier had died away.

"Are we leaving now?" she asked, vaguely remembering something being said about that during the night. "Where are we going?"

He glanced at the window, contemplating. "I need to get the horse to the ranch, and then – we'll see."

* * *

Troy removed the keys from his pants pocket and unlocked the car, helping himself to a weapon inside, and then went for the garage to let Fido out.

The horse all but sprinted at the gift of freedom and crossed toward the field of grass to graze.

Troy studied it for a while, scanning the surrounding area to make sure it was okay where it was, and then went a bit further in search of the dead he had hoped had made it to them.

Or at least closer.

While he walked and hunted, he thought of how he was going to go back to the ritual spot and get his rifle.

He had to.

It had pained Troy to leave it while they were fleeing last night but there hadn't been an opportunity to grab it in the chaos.

* * *

"I drank, now you finish it," Nick said.

Alicia groaned in dismay but kept the bottle. She couldn't make herself drink, though. Not right away.

"We already brought the horse to the ranch? Didn't we?"

Her memories seemed blurry, mingling and making her lose track of when and if they had ever happened.

She shook her head, deciding to take his word for it. "Never mind."

Nick studied her. Her pupils seemed a bit dilated still, but not crazily so. She must be coming down by now.

"How you feeling?"

"Fine." She shrugged, then reconsidered. "It changes. I think I slept a little and that was good. Now I feel… a little confused. My brain is foggy."

She looked him over, reaching out to touch the bloodied spot on his arm, but thought better of it. "How are you? Did you get that cleaned?"

Nick looked at his shoulder as her hand reached for it, only now remembering about the arrows. The bleeding had stopped a long time ago, and his shirtsleeve was stiff with dried blood. It stung when he moved it. But the pills still held the edge off the pains he could have been feeling to the full.

"Had no time for it," he confessed. "It's just a couple of deep scratches, nothing too bad."

"Let me?"

Alicia gestured for the stairs, that he follow her downstairs. She still clung to the railing like she could fall, because honestly, she might. But the trek downwards went smoother than expected.

She located the medical kit and opened it to re-examine its contents.

"Let me be useful. I promise I won't attempt any stitches."

That last part was meant in jest. She knew he remembered how she'd failed her embroidery project in home economics. He'd teased her relentlessly about it for a week when it happened, delighted by her rare failure and her teacher's commentary that what was supposed to be a rose embroidered onto a pillow, had been perverted into something that resembled female genitalia.

Nick followed her and surveyed the first floor as he walked for the couch to take a seat.

The fireplace was long cold because no one fed the flames after they all went up to the bedrooms. No sparks had jumped out of it, and it was lucky, although there was a metal plate put in front of it smartly to protect the house from accidents of that sort.

"Your stitches don't scare me," Nick said, smiling. "But if you're still high, it's a bit of worrisome."

"Shirt," she commanded, gesturing he relieve his arm of the fabric so she could take a look, trying to find some antibacterial wipes in the kit. It dawned on her a few seconds later that they'd never had any, and that was the reason they'd bargained for some moonshine. Where had that bottle gone to?

Nick pulled the shirt off over his head. The arm stung a little, but distantly, while the pills still worked.

"Lost something?" he asked, smiling at the confusion on her face. He could no longer judge whether she was still high or not anymore.

"Moonshine," she admitted, staring at the door and trying to remember if she had seen Troy bring it inside. She wasn't sure. "I'll find it."

She took a seat on the armrest of the couch first, however, leaning down to examine the cuts on her brother's arm. They probably wouldn't need stitches, but sepsis was always a concern. Especially these days. A scab had started forming on the outer edges and that was a good sign, but some of the wound was still unprotected, raw, and bloody.

She reached behind her to grab a clean piece of gauze from the med-kit and soaked it with some water from her bottle. She could at least clean some dirt and grime from the wound before she went in search of the booze. It would be better than doing nothing at all.

"It's in the Jeep with all the rest of things," he said. "We haven't exactly moved in here. And now we probably shouldn't. If any of that group survived, they'll want to get even. We don't need to give them that chance."

"They brought it on themselves," she said gravely. "But yes, I'd like to avoid another run in with them."

Alicia dabbed gently at his wound, cleaning it the best she could. Running water would have been better, especially if they had soap.

"It'd help if you took a shower, even if the water is freezing. Just to thoroughly clean this wound."

The process probably wasn't all that pleasant for Nick, but she found some comfort in it. These were the kind of things she'd assisted with at the hospital, and she'd always loved it.

"Did you know that using alcohol to clean a wound can sometimes slow down the healing process?" she said absentmindedly, thoroughly enraptured in her task. "It can damage the tissue."

"It makes sense, I guess, but we get less and less choices these days."

Something must be still there, he decided as he studied her. Some lingering aftermath of high. But the peak was over. Nick could probably relax, but it was easier said than done. There was some inner strain, like a tightly screwed spring that he couldn't make let go. He had spent too much time pushing against all odds and limits.

"Mm," a sound of agreement as she continued her work. The damp gauze came away bloodied, but most of it appeared to be from the day before. She picked up another piece of gauze and gently dried him before locating a suitable bandage to protect the wound further.

It was only when she finished that she took note of the dark bruises across his chest, most likely from his time spent in the river.

"Oh, Nick…" she frowned, suddenly feeling a pang of guilt. He must have been in so much pain the past few days. She should have taken better care of him.

"Hey," he took her by the chin gently, making her look him in the eye. A small smile touched his lips. "We're alive. Still."

Alicia nodded, fighting back the tears that had made such frequent appearances lately, swiping at her eyes with the back of her bandaged hand.

"Jesus, I've become such a crybaby. Can we blame it on the drugs?"

Nick emitted a soft laugh. "Absolutely. Personally, I saw no tears. Just how freaking tough you are. I love you."

She returned his smile, grateful he was here, grateful _he_ was her brother. "I love you."

They'd said that a lot more recently than they normally would. She didn't mind. It was a nice reminder. One of the reasons they both still clung to life.

Nick glanced around the room, recalling any drawers he hadn't checked. "Think you can find me a towel? Gonna go check out the lake."

She nodded and got to her feet. "Yeah. Think there's some in the bathroom."

* * *

There was no action to be found outside as it seemed the dead hadn't found their way in their direction and if they had – not to the cabin.

That would have been a good thing if they decided to stay. Only it wasn't and they weren't.

The walk had helped, though, and by the time Troy returned, Fido had moved and was headed back to the garage for some water.

He went in after the horse to check.

There wasn't much left from the night. Troy had to fill it.

He gave the horse's head a pat, brushing his fingers through the mane, and allowed himself the mindless comfort of familiarity that extended past hard labor and strain.

A stolen minute the horse broke when it pulled away and trotted outside for the next grassy patch.

After making sure that Troy was right about the dead and the animal was in no immediate danger, he headed for the jeep, removed one of the large bottles of water and started inside.

* * *

Alicia made her way upstairs and made use of the toilet while she was there, washing her uninjured hand and splashing some water on her face to wake herself up a bit. She returned less than two minutes later, carrying a towel. It had managed to dry overnight.

"Communal towel, I'm afraid," she said, throwing it to Nick. "Couldn't find any others."

"You say it as if I'd care," he remarked, smirking, and got up, throwing the towel on his shoulder. "You shouldn't be alone, though. Not because I don't trust you're back from your trip, but rather because of the whole world being against us these days. Wanna come with or lock the door with anything? It's not as much the dead ones that I worry about, so better safe than sorry."

Troy entered the cabin, found the two smiling at one another, and frowned for a minute. They looked like they were having a good time. Odd. Not that it should be an issue or was the first time, but given how annoyed he'd felt some time ago it felt misplaced.

 _What have I missed?_

"Troy's here for backup," Alicia replied once said man entered the cabin, carrying a large bottle of water. "But I'll go anyway." Even if she was starting to feel tired, like the massive amount of energy she'd obtained before was slowly seeping out. She didn't want Nick to be out there alone and unguarded any more than he wanted that for her.

"Anyone for water?" Troy asked, brushing it off as he carried the bottle toward the kitchen and set it down on the table.

"Still have some," she said in regards to Troy's offer, holding up the small bottle Nick had given her earlier, lightly shaking its contents. "Wanna come watch Nick take a bath?"

In theory, they'd be safer together.

"It's not supposed to sound that dirty," Nick chided, sneering. "But if you're up for a swim, might do you good. Any dead out there yet?"

Troy helped himself to a glass of water and shook his head. "They must still be up in the hills. But look out anyway. A few of those freaks might have survived. I don't remember seeing them all go down and I don't trust it."

Nor did he trust Katie and her Scooby gang. What if they, too, decided on some revenge and found the trio? She knew where they were and those little bitches had been pretty fanatic in their views.

At least from what he understood of them.

"Are you swimming?" Troy stepped out of the kitchen and gestured to Alicia's injured hand. "Are you planning to get in the water? If so we should wrap that hand for you – plastic."

He was already starting to look around for something just in case. She was still high, right? Who knew where her impulses would take her and what kind of bacteria she'd pick up and rot her hand.

Alicia shook her head a no. "Just coming to make sure my brother doesn't get in trouble."

She shot a partially teasing smile Nick's way, though there was definitely truth to what she said. He had a knack for attracting trouble.

It was strange watching Troy trying to take care of her. Whatever his motivations for doing so would turn out to be, Alicia did appreciate it.

"You coming?"

Troy stopped looking and gave a nod. "Yeah." No part of him considered to let them go out there alone—so close to the trailers—while one was high and the other was defenseless.

Nick stepped out of the cabin, habitually scanning the trees around in search of any moving targets. It didn't seem too wrong that the dead hadn't come around here yet, but it would be stupid to relax and let the guard down.

The horse, however, had no cares in the world, grazing peacefully, the tail swishing sideways.

It didn't feel right to let it be alone. Nick clicked his tongue, testing. The horse raised its head, ears perked. It hesitated, then started toward Nick. He reached out, took the animal by the reins and led to the water. It had to be thirsty because it hurried ahead of him and sucked hungrily. The sounds were loud and comical.

Smiling, Nick pulled off his shirt, pushed off his boots and stepped into the lake. The water was cold, almost freezing in contrast to a warm morning. Grimacing, he went deeper, hoping there were no undead surprises stuck in the silt.

Alicia and Troy weren't far behind, slowly approaching the lake as Nick got undressed and readied himself for a swim with the horse beside him.

Alicia knew she had spent some time with Troy the following night – he'd been the one to patch her up – but their conversations were still a little blurry and she was uncertain about what had actually been said and what had simply been thoughts in her mind.

"I just wanted to say thank you," she started as they walked, keeping her gaze straight ahead because for some reason looking up at him proved difficult. "For what you've done for Nick. For me. I won't forget it."

Troy wondered though if what she was saying was true, would she remember or conveniently go back to hating him. Why did he even suddenly care to analyze it?

He gave a slow nod and a 'think nothing of it' gesture. "We're on the same side."

They had been for a while even if she didn't entirely view it that way.

"Yeah." That was all the response she could give at the moment. It had been easy talking to him the night before because her sense of self-preservation had been nonexistent, but now that it was seeping back in it was hard to replicate that carefree state. Didn't mean what he'd done, that he'd helped save Nick and her from those crazy people, as well as helping her get through the night meant anything less. She appreciated it.

The cold of the water felt as if it was seeping into his bones as Nick swam. He did his best to ignore it, work around it and keep moving to maybe gain some warmth inside, but it wasn't happening.

When he swam back to shore and found his footing, walking for the bank, his teeth were clattering a little.

"This is a damn cold lake," he commented, rubbing his torso with the towel. "Not even the dead live there."

Nick was shivering like a damn leaf and unlike most of the times Alicia'd seen him tremble from withdrawals, this was quite amusing. She grinned, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand.

"You brave Viking, you."

Nick looked as if he'd doubted the decision, making Troy smile in turn. "That's it? I expected you'd want to do a lap or twelve."

Nick made a face at Troy. "You go do ten at least."

He dried himself off and pulled his shirt on, stilling in the sunlight to get it to ooze through his skin.

"We gotta eat something, and then I take the horse back to the ranch."

Alicia squinted at Nick, then at Troy. "And then? We leave?"

They didn't have much of a plan. She wasn't even sure which direction would be best to travel in. North?

"We won't get far without more supplies."

"And what do you suggest?" Nick asked calmly, wiping water off his face with a tail of the towel. "Stay around and grow crops or move in with the farmers… or scavenge around this area until the pagan survivors shoot us from the bushes and drag you away to present to their spirits?"

"Just sayin'," Alicia held her hands up in defense. "I'm not eager to stick around either. But we should at least have an inkling of which direction we're heading."

 _Here we go again,_ Troy thought. Nick's obsession with those people, doing the right thing and returning the horse. Oh, well. Fido did need walls of his own, so maybe it would be a good space?

Katie flashed into mind and immediately killed that image.

Before Troy could grip the hem of his shirt and mockingly show Nick the bandage wrapped around his abdomen after the stitching job, Nick continued over him and moved onto the next subject.

Troy waited until they started walking again before falling in line.

"Do you really think they've survived? We can go to their trailers, see what they have, take what's left and burn the trailers to the ground so that they have nothing to come back to. We don't have to stay but maybe we should. You still have recovering to do, Nick. I doubt you could handle another kidnapping."

They walked back towards the cabin. Alicia tried her best not to yawn. The higher the sun rose, the more tired she started to feel. Maybe she could have used another few hours of sleep?

Troy had a point – Nick wasn't stupid to think he was in a perfect shape. Not after barely having slept for a couple of hours after a hell of a night and day. But staying around here didn't sit well with him. Be it because of a paranoid idea about the survivors. Even the ranch people, though seeming nice enough to him, might be not all perfect as they looked. He understood where Troy's paranoia was coming from. Nick just didn't want to stick around and find out whether he was right or wrong. He didn't feel like taking chances around here, anymore.

"You're not wrong, neither of you is," he said, scanning the woods as they approached the cabin. "We should go look in and around the trailers. And I gotta get the horse back before we leave. As for where we go…" Nick trailed off, giving it a bit of thought. "Maybe we go east? Next state? See what's there? Arizona's always been a nice place to look at. Not much has changed."

He was agreeing with Troy now? Troy was expecting him to argue and say that there was no way Troy should burn down the trailers and that the fire might spread.

"While you take the horse back to Katie and your other kidnappers, I'll go for my rifle," Troy stated as they headed back to the cabin. He was sure Nick would have something to say about that. "Are you going to go with your brother, Alicia?"

Alicia thought about that a moment. The ranch seemed like a long way to walk, or even ride, but she was worried about Nick. Especially after seeing the state he was in and knowing he hadn't had much sleep.

And Troy could handle himself by the looks of it.

"Yeah. Mom always did tell me to get more fresh air," Alicia said, partially joking. "A trip to the farm might be nice."

"Sticking together is always smarter than splitting up," Nick put in. "If you can't live without that rifle, Troy, we have to get it together. No one's going anywhere alone, I think it'd be the sane call. Where did you lose your rifle and how come it's so damn special?"

"It's a .50 cali rifle. It could blow someone's leg off from two thousand yards. You think I'm giving that up to nature and the dead so that they can piss all over it?" Troy scoffed at the idea. "But you're not going with me. Neither of you. I can handle this solo." And he would. "You two go on to the farm. One of you ride the horse, the other the Jeep and meet me back at the cabin in an hour or two and then we can decide what to do next and where to go when you're ready."

"Sorry, Troy, no solo missions. You need your baby back, we get it together."

Alicia felt another argument coming on. They did that a lot, these two. Disagreeing on just about everything, but still hell-bent on sticking together.

She climbed the stairs to the cabin and headed inside, taking a brief look around before stepping back out again, holding her hand out towards Troy.

"Can I have the keys to the Jeep? Before we go anywhere I'd like to get my pants."

Troy removed the keys from his pocket and held them out to Alicia, allowing his gaze to fall to her legs to make sure she was indeed still wearing pants and he hadn't missed something.

"Have you looked at the crap around here? That ladies stuff might work."

Although most of it was jeans, summer dresses and some black number that no longer had any part in this world anymore. Where would you even find the occasion for something like that?

"I'll take a gander later," Alicia said, taking the keys from him. "But I have jeans in the car that should fit."

"Do you even want to go back up there, Nick? What if… you know, it sets off something. You guys went through quite a bit up there." He'd been hunted and she'd been forced to do shit Troy barely even understood.

"I'll be fine," Nick said, flaunting an overly sweet smile. "I won't faint, I won't cry, pinky swear."

Alicia got back off the porch and headed for the jeep at a slow jog, unlocked the door and crawled inside to rummage through the pile of clothes, eventually locating the pair of jeans she'd taken from the gas station a few days before.

She shimmied out of her shorts and pulled them on before making her way back to the cabin. She'd need new boots as well, unless they could find her old ones at the campsite.

"You don't know if any of that is true and how you'll react going back there. Especially her. I've seen some crazy shit, Nick. I'm not trying to be a dick. I'm trying to help you."

It would be weird to say taking care of because there was an unspoken stipulation attached to that that touched on love and made the whole brother label come off even deeper. Troy had never been good at that. Not with Jake, anyway. Which is why it was surreal at times that Troy found someone on his level who just appeared to appreciate him for him with no strings or contradicting lectures to try and make him better or conform him.

There was a relief in that but also a sense of uncharacteristic fear that Troy'd screw it up.

Or Nick would.

Disappointment was also an essential fixture of life.

At least it had been for Troy's.

"If you don't feel up to it, don't go, if you do… fine."

He gave a small shrug, walked over to the kitchen and helped himself to a glass of water and then went for the cooler to see what they had left to eat as Alicia walked back in.

Nick didn't feel they traumatized him enough for him to be thinking about it all in the light Troy was presenting. Nick felt he had to rather be afraid of what he did to them. But he didn't want to think about it and dig for details in his memory if he could help it. Troy could be right about Alicia, though. Nick couldn't know what residue it had left in her mind and how it would pan out. Regardless of that, he didn't think she would want to sit this one out, either.

He waited for Alicia on the porch, then followed her inside.

"So?" Alicia asked once they were all inside, and she'd taken Troy's advice to look through the heap of clothing he'd managed to snag. "Did you decide? We sticking together?"

There was a pair of women's sneakers among the treasures Troy had claimed that looked like they might fit. They weren't ideal for traipsing through the forest, but they would have to do until she could find something better. She missed her boots.

"How do you feel about going up onto the hill again? The red tent?" Troy asked, removing two cans of something. He opened both and extended one toward Nick with a spoon, assuming he'd take it since he'd said he was looking for food and had to be hungry at this point.

Nick took the can and tried to read the label, but it was faded and damaged. He could see something like Pork, but couldn't be sure.

It didn't matter. He was finally hungry.

Alicia hesitated briefly at the mention of the red tent, an avalanche of unpleasant memories threatening to crash down onto her. But she held it off, refocused on the two men beside her.

"Sure," he said simply, taking a seat at the kitchen table. "That where you lost your rifle?"

"It is. I ran out of bullets, had to dump and change strategy. It should still be there. However, the same courtesy extends to you as it does your brother. If you don't want to go, don't go, I can handle that alone."

And wasn't she still high? What if she had another of those hallucinations? If there were dead up there and something happened – an accident – Troy suspected that Nick wouldn't forgive him as easily as he did about the other shit.

"Otherwise, I suggest we hit Fido first, drop him off and then make our way back. After we have the rifle it'll be up to the two of you whether or not we come back here or take off on the road to nowhere."

He tucked into his own can and wrinkled his nose with distaste. Canned asparagus? What kind of devil even thought of that? And what kind of asshole would sell it? He missed the ranch now more than ever.

"We need to check the trailers before I lead the horse past them," Nick said, sending a forkful of "pork" in his mouth. It wasn't the best thing he ever ate, but it was bearable.

"I'll go," Alicia said in response to Troy's offer of staying behind. It might have been easier here and now, but in the long-term it would make her stronger. Or so she told herself as she reached for her bottle of water.

She looked to her brother as he spoke up, squinting slightly and trying to remember the details of their path taken to the ranch a few days ago.

"Did you see anything on your drive there last night?" That is where he had gone, right? Where else could he have deposited that girl?

"I saw corpses," Nick said. "Maybe a couple lying out there. I don't know if they would rise, I didn't get closer or linger to see. I tried to keep as far as possible, driving by the lake shore. What's happening there this morning, I've no idea. Could be anything."

Troy nodded in response to both their declarations and choked down the asparagus as fast as he could before tossing the can toward the counter.

House rules didn't apply anymore and he doubted they were going to be here come the end of the night.

Besides that dried horseshit between the kitchen and the living room was an impractical step now. That wasn't a fixture he wanted where he planned to stay.

"Alright. Let's take stock of what we have left, what we want and we'll take the jeep down to the trailers."

Even if there were people there, waiting, he didn't think they'd have to stress much.

Corpses Alicia could handle. They weren't what she really feared at the moment, and she got the sense both Nick and Troy shared her sentiment on that. It was the people who were a problem.

"How are we on weapons?" she asked as she slipped her feet into the sneakers, remembering her knife had gone missing at some point, and the guns she and Nick had briefly commandeered when they tried to flee had most likely been taken back by their captors. She had seen a few handguns in the back of the jeep when she fetched her jeans, but she hadn't checked their ammo. Without that, they were useless.

Nick scraped the last of the meal from the can and tossed it after Troy's in the trash.

"I've my knife, and my gun's in the car I drove last night, I think."

He took a few gulps of water, screwed the cap back on, and stepped out on the porch. The horse was still grazing, and no dead wanted to eat it.

"We've got knives and a couple handgun bullets. Should be enough to do the damage we need against the dead. I suggest we save the latter for the living."

Troy wiped his mouth, wishing he had something other than water to wash the lingering aftertaste away and followed Nick out onto the porch.

"Are we coming back here?"

Nick reflected, watching the horse.

"Well, I think we should leave the Jeep here and take that other car and go check the trailers. Then – if all's good – we get your rifle. Then I take the horse to the ranch and come back here so we could leave."

"We're all taking the horse!" Alicia called after them as she laced up her shoes, following once she finished. She wasn't about to let Nick wander off alone any easier than he would allow her to do the same. "But maybe we should pack up the jeep first, just in case we're forced to make a quick get-away?"

That was Troy's thinking, too, and exactly why he'd asked if they were returning.

"Alicia's right. If there are people down there and we do happen to shake things up again – which is highly likely – we're going to want to make a quick getaway. We should put our shit together and ready to leave. Especially if that's what we're intending to do."

Troy didn't want to accidentally leave supplies behind or give them away when they were so hard to come by.

"Okay, fine, by all means, put our shit together and all that," Nick said, producing his scrunched cigarette pack from his back pocket and fishing for his lighter. "I just don't think it's a good idea for Troy to show face at the ranch after he's been keeping their scared kid locked up all day." He turned to Otto, sticking a cigarette in his mouth. "I didn't tell them she was tied up, and I denied you did anything bad to her, but she could've told them all that on her own. I don't want any more conflicts. I just wanna leave the horse and go."

Nick lit the smoke and dragged at it.

"What did he do to her?" Alicia asked, turning to look at the man in question. She'd been under the impression he'd used the girl to find their whereabouts but she didn't remember seeing her harmed. Had she missed that in her drug-induced state?

"Jesus Christ, Nick. You make it sound like I did something I'm supposed to be ashamed of. Those people drugged you and kidnapped you. Locking their brat up was the least that I could do. In fact, that's less than what they had planned for the both of you. She got off easy. A lot easy. I didn't hurt her," Troy added to answer Alicia's question. "– not in a sense that could have been construed or viewed as the same level of torture you two were dealing with yesterday. I just took her on a psychological rollercoaster. Put the fear of God in her. She needed it."

Hell, given how much grief he was getting, Troy spitefully wished he'd change that and had taken his frustrations out on her. At least then she and they would have something to actually cry about.

"Besides, Katie's not going to say anything. She's a coward. As are her friends. But if it makes you feel better, we'll park a bit away from the entrance, you slip Fido in and they don't even have to see me."

Nick scowled at Troy in disbelief. "What are you even talking about? Don't throw it all in the same pot. Katie is not that pagan gang's brat - she's a kid of people who have been nice to us. And it's not their fault, which you don't seem to get through your skull. They didn't do anything to us - they didn't know. If you think keeping a kid scared out of her head and tied up in a garage is no biggie, it's a problem, even for this world. And yeah, you better wait in the car. It's best for everybody."

Alicia looked between the two with some uncertainty, both adamant in their own point of view. Her natural instinct was to side with Nick, but she also remembered him telling her Katie had been the one who'd drugged her and handed her off to the crazies. If Troy was telling the truth and hadn't actually harmed her, Alicia didn't have it in her to feel too badly for Katie. Not right now, anyway.

But Alicia still felt she'd missed some huge part of this whole story.

As for now, it didn't matter. They'd have time to argue later, once they were on the road and hopefully safer than they were now.

"Okay," Alicia said. "It's settled. Let's get what we need out to the car. I'll do a sweep of the second floor."

She headed back inside to do just that.

Why was Nick so quick to vindicate the little bitch? Was it because her tits hadn't fully grown yet and she'd spewed some bullshit about the big bad Troy all the way back to the ranch? Troy almost craved a little alone time with her just to find out.

"Make sure you grab the needle and thread on the bathroom counter!" he called after Alicia as she started inside. Troy gave Nick a mute look, an agreement to drop the subject and then trailed after her. "I'll grab the cooler and the water, you can slip Fido into his cage."

Defiance radiated off Troy like wobbly heat off the hood of a car in a summer noon. He chose to say nothing, and Nick supported it. They didn't need to argue over shit when they had things to take care of.

Nick clicked his tongue for the horse, but it guessed his intentions and made him come for it. The horse wasn't eager to get back to the garage. Wincing, Nick slid the door closed before the horse slipped back out. He was getting more cunning in chasing his needs.

Alicia headed up the stairs, stopping by the bathroom first to collect the little travel-size sewing kit Troy had used to patch them up. There were a few other things they could make use of from the bathroom; soap, toilet paper, toothpaste, but before she gathered it all she moved to one of the bedrooms and found a pillowcase to carry her haul in.

When she got back downstairs she'd added a clean sheet and the blanket Nick had covered her with the previous night to her collection.

There was nothing in the clothing on the floor that Troy wanted and after checking the cooler to make sure nothing had gone off in there – like the meat he couldn't remember them finishing, Troy carried both it and the water toward the jeep and set them down beside the wheel as he no longer had the keys.

Nick had done his job, too.

"When your sister gets back, check what weapons we have in there. I'll go check the car for what you left."

The one they'd confiscated from the pagans and he hadn't been able to check properly when he moved it away from the cabin and into the trees somewhere.

Nick leaned against the side of the Jeep, lighting a cigarette, watching him retreat.

Soon enough, Alicia emerged from the cabin, walking to him with her loot.

"Got the keys?" he asked, exhaling smoke.

Alicia held them up for him to see as she rounded the car, unlocking the back so they could stow their stuff away on the flatbed. She'd grabbed the medical kit as well; which Troy must have forgotten in his haste to get his rifle back.

"Help me keep a look-out for my boots when we get to the trailers? I'd very much like them back, even if they do chafe the hell out of my heels."

Nick chuckled. "You think I remember your boots so well? You think too much of me."

Alicia rolled her eyes and pushed the cooler further into the car to make room for whatever else they needed to pack. "Just tell me if you find a pair of women's combat boots, okay?"

Nick took another shallow drag, guarding his aching lungs and ribs.

"You sure you'll be fine to go back to that tent place? Maybe you better wait in the car? You need no additions to your last night stresses."

She paused at his question, leaning against the open flatbed. When she next spoke, her voice was soft, calm.

"Look, let's get this out of the way. It was pretty obvious what they were going to do to me. I was the first-prize in their twisted games. They were going to rape me. And that scares me more than the potentially dying part.

"But they didn't. You and Troy saved me from that. Just like with Proctor John. I'm not traumatized. I'm angry, yes. Disappointed in how much humanity keeps letting us down. But not traumatized. I'll be fine."

She squeezed his good arm gently, offering a small smile.

"You're not going without me."

Nick smiled, and breathed the smoke out. "You pretty much saved yourself there, and me, too. Don't sell yourself short - even drugged, you're a tough one to threaten."

Alicia frowned, eyeing him curiously "I did? I don't remember that." Everything that had happened outside of the red tent seemed to be a bit of a blur.

He gave a soft laugh, and regarded her.

"However tough and fierce, you'll always be my little sister I'll want to protect from all possible threats. Including nightmares."

She smiled, touched by the sentiment.

"I know. You can be protective." She pointed a finger at him, somewhat playful. "Until I tell you it's enough."

Troy found the handgun and the knife on the floor of the car, noting that the inside of the vehicle smelled like faint urine. At least he had that. One staple victory.

He drove it back to the cabin and steadily pulled up beside the two.

There was still a bit of fuel in it that they could siphon across from tank to tank when they were done.

"Ready to go?"

Alicia moved to shut the door to the flatbed, and nodded. "Ready."

Nick stomped out his cigarette and pulled the back door open, sorting through the weapons until he came away with a minimum they needed for their reckoning mission. He gave Alicia a gun and a knife, kept a blade for himself before shutting the door and following his sister to another car.

It took them less than six minutes to make it from the hidden cabin to that of the trailers. The dog from the day before was wandering around aimlessly. It'd been out there all night feeding on the man Troy'd killed and was still making a go of it. He couldn't blame it for his determination. When you had a good thing, you kept with it for as long as it served and you were able to make it work.

Troy approached the bridge of trailers slowly, eyeing the windows, assuming that any noise they'd have made by then would have drawn attention.

Only no one jumped out.

He pressed a hand to the hooter and honked twice.

The dog barked but no other movement was seen.

Troy checked the bullets in the handgun he'd found in the car, a knife tucked into the other hand as he turned off the ignition and got out. He didn't want to drive into the middle and have them be cornered.

Alicia waited until Troy got out of the car, then followed, gun in her right hand, knife in her left, briefly distracted by the sight of the massacred corpse they were forced to pass. It looked like someone had torn at his flesh, and the infected immediately sprung to mind. Until she remembered the dog. _Ew_.

Nick climbed out after them, and looked around.

A few corpses, no walking ones. There was a scared dog, which made him wary, considering his bad experience with starving, spooked canines in the past.

He didn't want to shoot it, but didn't love it being around. It didn't seem too interested in them, however, for as long as they didn't disturb its meal time.

"I'll check this one," he waved a knife at the closest trailer. "And you try the one with the bathtub, Alicia. Your boots might still be there."

Troy followed them into the middle of the trailer park and observed them giving each other directions before preparing to split off into different trailers.

He didn't think that to be a good idea since they didn't know what lay beyond each door but he didn't argue.

It was quiet and he planned to stay close to each or at least between them to run in if needed and as needed.

Alicia nodded, reached back into the car to upend the pillowcase she'd brought from the cabin, taking it with her. She saw her brother off and turned to make sure Troy was still in sight before she approached one of the trailers in the middle. She opened the door and stepped back, making sure no one would come rushing at her or meet her with a hailstorm of bullets as she climbed in. There was no one.

She found her boots as well as her jeans, top and underwear. She tucked them into the pillowcase after searching the rest of the trailer, but there was nothing else that could be of use to them.

"Clear," she told Troy once back outside, moving on to the next trailer.

The trailer was empty of people or dead, but Nick found a couple of boxes of ammo in the drawers, a few shirts, a hair brush, three tubes of toothpaste. There was nothing else of value, and he went to the next one. A belt, which he put around his waist with his knife locked on it. A holster with a handgun joined in, hanging on another hip.

While Troy waited, the dog ran up to him, baring his teeth a moment, moving around him as if it was worried he was going to steal its food supply like the night before.

"Still not interested, dude. Scram."

Troy kicked dirt in his direction and watched it scramble away, but only far enough to be safe. He gave a nod of acknowledgement when Alicia appeared from her trailer, Nick followed suit and then moved onto the next.

Troy walked over to Alicia and gestured for her to hand him her pillowcase.

"I'll pack it in the car for you. If you continue looking and happen upon batteries, we could do with some."

Alicia handed Troy her pillowcase and nodded, acknowledging she'd heard his request before she made for the next trailer. She slipped her knife down her back pocket to free up one hand and repeated the process from before, making sure no one was inside before she ventured in.

This trailer was a lot better equipped than the previous one, with several cabinets to look through as well as a few backpacks. She found several cans of food, a few unopened bottles of water, bandages, protein bars, a whole lot of hunting knives, a flashlight, and to her surprise four loose AA batteries. She didn't know if they had any juice left in them, but they were worth taking just to check.

Nick sought through another trailer, came out with a bunch of clothes, two pairs of jeans, another gun, some snacks hidden under the bed in a duffel bag. He tossed the clothes and weapon inside and left it at the car before heading into the next one.

No survivors around made him lower his guard a bit, which he regretted the moment the trailer's door closed behind him and he turned to see a gun trained on his chest.

It was a girl in her twenties, wearing a white dress, trembling like there were electrical wires stuck in her sending steady currents. She was almost crying, but her hand looked firm enough, her finger tight on the trigger.

Nick had no time to pull his gun out – he was no Wild West sheriff. There was nothing he could tell her – they were on the opposite sides of this strife.

He raised his hands slowly, studying her in search of weaknesses.

"You gonna shoot or what?" he asked, the corners of his mouth twitching in a misplaced amusement.

She sobbed and put her second hand on the gun, her knuckles white.

* * *

Troy slipped the pillowcase into the Sedan beside the rest of the loot that Nick had acquired and nearly collided with the dog who'd run up on his heels.

"Dude! Seriously!" Troy snapped. It charged away, beneath the nearest trailer, and disappeared.

It needed to take a chill pill and was beginning to remind him of one of those old lady ankle biters.

He returned to the middle of the construction, scanned those that they hadn't touched yet, and slowly headed toward them, peering into the dusty windows to see inside as best he could. Troy swiped at them to clean them and then gave up. The dust was too much.

He cast a glance in the direction of the trailers he knew Alicia and Nick to be and then slipped inside.

They'd been fine up to now and it seemed as if so far the place was clear.

* * *

When Alicia came back outside, neither Troy nor Nick were in view. She assumed they were each checking out the other trailers and headed for the car to deposit her newest haul, stuffing the filled backpacks into the trunk.

She paused for a brief moment to scan the remaining trailers, caught sight of Troy through one of the windows and decided to continue from the other end and work their way to the middle.

Only the trailer she opened next wasn't clear at all. Alicia froze in the doorway as she caught sight of Nick further inside and a young woman that seemed somewhat familiar pointing a gun his way. Alicia couldn't move, worried if she did she'd spook her and the woman would pull the trigger.

"Please don't…" Alicia whispered, eyes wide with fear.


	18. Chapter 18

**THE CHOSEN ONES — PART 8** (season semi-finale)

Nick's blood turned to liquid ice when Alicia appeared on the steps and froze there, eyes wide and locked on the shivering pagan. There was a dresser partially shielding her, but that didn't give him much relief.

The girl shook harder, but this time it was a little laughing fit. She looked mad like a hatter, both angry and scared, undecided which direction to pick.

"You…" she growled, shooting glowers at Alicia while steadying her gun better, her fingers straining on the handle. "Spirits chose you. They chose you! And you just couldn't do it right! Jack… and Matt… they… they…"

She gave a whimper, then shook her head as if to shed the grief for later, her eyes narrowed at Nick with ire.

"You had no right," she said. "You had to—"

"Die for you?" Nick asked. "Is that it? Because you people believe some things, others should die for your pleasure?"

Her fingers tightened on the trigger, pushing it a tiny bit. She glared. "It was a great honor! You would be one with… with everything! You'd become the power! The grace! Everything! There's nothing higher than that!"

"Why wouldn't you do that, then? Why pick people who don't care or know about that everything of yours?"

"Because this is how you know! This is why we all are here! To make you see!" Her eyes glistened with tears of rapture. "Mother Elise said it had to be this night. The ritual should be completed. This is why I'm here. It makes sense now." A smile bloomed on her face unexpectedly. "Thank you, Mother, you always guide me."

She was fucking crazy. That was Alicia's first thought as she listened to the girl's verbal assault, and it worried her. Crazy people were unpredictable. They were capable of anything.

It also made Alicia angry. The entitlement in the girl's voice, as if these people had a claim to her life. To Nick's. As if they had done them some great injustice by not allowing them to murder people for their beliefs.

At the same time, something in Alicia stirred when she talked of the spirits, some strange longing to be back in that place in time where everything was beautiful and sparkly. Instead they were all stuck here in this cold, grey reality.

Nick inched sideways, away from Alicia, guiding the muzzle with him. And then, it was as clear as a ray of sunshine in your eye: she was going to shoot.

She did.

It deafened him as he jerked to the side and launched at her before she could fire again.

She gasped as her back hit the floor. Nick heard the click of the trigger – that girl knew how to shoot, for sure – and grabbed her by the forehead, smashing her head into the floor. Her eyes rolled, her hand loosened, and Nick felt that the muzzle of her gun was pressing under his ribs. Where it would have fired next.

Alicia jumped when she pulled the trigger and watched in horror as her brother launched himself at the girl as she was about to fire another shot. Alicia raised her own gun, squeezing it so hard she could feel the stitches in her hand strain from the pressure, and pointed it at her.

Nick scooted back, pulled the gun from her hand, and felt the burning sting in his long-suffering shoulder. Liquid heat was soaking the sleeve.  
"Dammit," Nick breathed, and checked on her. She was out cold, but alive.

As Nick pulled the gun from her limp hand Alicia slowly lowered her own, dashing into the trailer and kneeling at his side. He was bleeding again.

"Are you hit?!"

Nick pushed the confiscated gun into her free hand and touched his shoulder. His palm came away bloody.

"This one will probably need stitches," he said, trying to examine the extent of injury.

It wasn't through-and-through as they called it. Just a deep gash where the bullet nipped him. It bled worse than the arrow scratches, though.

"You okay?" he asked Alicia, scanning her. "She didn't get you with that?"

"Of course not." Once again her big brother had taken the brunt of the damage. She was getting really tired of people trying to kill the person she loved most.

She got to her feet, shoved one of the guns into the waistband of her pants, and opened the nearest cabinets, rummaging through them until she found a towel that looked clean. Returning to his side, she pressed the towel to his wound to staunch the bleeding, an apologetic look ghosting across her face at his obvious pain as she did so.

"Keep pressure here," Alicia told him, urging his other hand to take over. "We need to restrain her before she comes to."

Troy had been in the middle of rummaging through drawers and putting together his loot when the distinct sound of a gunshot rang out. He stilled and his blood turned cold.

He anticipated another shot, an indication that maybe the dead had caught up finally but it didn't come.

He shoved open the trailer door with a bang, appearing in the open doorway, scanning the line of trailers and area in search of the commotion before hastily heading for the opposite side. It wasn't hard to find what trailer they were in as it was the only one squeaking with motion as they moved around inside.

He yanked open the door and climbed inside, catching the tail end of Alicia's suggestion, it taking him literally two seconds to piece together what had happened and to snap the safety off his handgun.

"Forget it. We shoot her and be done with it."

Before Nick could retort with 'What then', Troy pushed into the trailer with his usual opinion.

Nick half turned to him, still keeping his body between Troy and the girl.

"She's got no weapons left, she's unconscious - it's murder," Nick stated, locking his eyes on Troy after shooting a glance at his sister, wondering whether she shared the sentiment.

Troy's forceful suggestion didn't surprise Alicia, but it still put her on edge, and she was glad Nick had stayed close to the unconscious girl's body. She knew Troy wouldn't shoot Nick. It'd be very hard to maintain a friendship after that.

But saving the girl still put them in a bind. What to do with her?

Leaving her here bound and gagged would condemn her to a slow death. A bullet would have been kinder. But simply leaving her didn't sit right with Alicia, either. She'd be able to stir up more trouble for them before they left.

"We take her to the ranch," Alicia said eventually, moving back to the cabinets to tear the other towels into strips like Troy had done the night before when the suggestion of tying her up had been on the table. "We take her to the ranch, explain the situation, and hope they have enough kindness in them to want to help her. She's young. Like that Katie girl."

Like them.

"She might still be able to let go of her… spirits, if someone kind enough shows her the way."

"And what she did to you was an intended love tap?" Had they learnt nothing from Proctor John? From Walker? From Troy himself? What about the damn pagans the day before?

If there was a way to save people or hand them over to some higher law where you knew it wouldn't come back and bite you in the ass, Troy would do so and gladly step aside but there wasn't.

The choice was you or them.

Nothing more and nothing fucking less.

"Where are they going to keep her?" Troy inquired. "I never saw a prison cell around there and I'm pretty sure they aren't equipped to deal with that kind of crazy. They barely contained their own. It's best to just end her. It's easier on everyone involved."

"Jeez, Troy, you can't murder people for your own convenience! It's not self-preservation anymore, it's fucking murder. It shouldn't be like that, it shouldn't be all there is - there's no reason to live if all you are is a machine for murder." Nick glanced at Alicia and shook his head. "We're not bringing a crazy to the ranch. She's out, she has no weapons. We can just leave her here. If no one else survived, she'll leave, too, because there's nothing left here for her. Let's leave and let her be. We can't be the ones to choose between her life and death. We can't be that. I don't wanna be that."

"It's the smart thing to do, Nick," said Troy.

They both had a point, Alicia reckoned – the ranch may very well not be equipped to deal with a prisoner, but what was to stop her from going after them should we simply leave her here? Crazy didn't need weapons to attack. They only needed enough conviction that what they were doing was the right thing.

She looked between the three of them, thinking, considering. "Fine. But we warn the people at the ranch of her existence. We don't know if she'll go after them, after Henry."

There was no upside to leaving her alive. None. Not for Troy, not for Nick, not for the people that would actually be staying here or anyone else that came across her senselessness.

"You're willing to save this one crazy and sacrifice a possible dozen Alicia's of this world fighting for survival when she gets into the next impressionable youth's head? Crazy breeds crazy. There's only one way to end it and that's to extinguish the source. You know that, I know that, and no amount of handing out warnings or pretending that this is a moral battle is going to change that. It's not, it's necessary – it's a necessity."

"No, it's not!" Nick yelled. "If I believed that, you'd be dead! This is not the way. We can't be the judges here to send her to death when she's not even the one who started the whole damn sect! That leader is dead, and this one is just another fucked-up girl with no one to back up her crazy. She can't die just because you're afraid of what she might or might not do."

"It's one thing to kill in self-defense, another to do it preemptively," Alicia said, a whole lot calmer than her brother who seemed to be on his last nerve. As if all the horror and hardships of the past few days were finally catching up to him. And he was still bleeding, not taking care of himself like she had urged him to, too preoccupied with protecting the girl.

Alicia swooped in to press the towel to his wound again, looking up at Troy.

"Can you please grab the bandages from the car? The stitches can wait until we're out of here, but we need to stop this bleeding."

And that was the thing wrong with this state of affairs. Troy should be dead. Madison knew that and had been prepared to fix her mistake. As much as Troy hated her for it, as much as it made him revaluate what he knew about her and what he liked about her – she was right. In this world, in this ongoing battle for existence, it was the only solution and the only prevention there was.

Faith was futile and a waste of energy.

Troy slipped the safety back into place, lowered the arm that had been poised and seeking a space between the two to shoot the girl and holstered the weapon.

"Let's just get him to the car. The sooner we're out of here the sooner crazy pants can go about establishing her merry fields of sacrificial lambs."

Troy stepped around them, over the girl and took a hold of Nick's shoulder to help him get to his feet, assuming that Alicia would know to keep pressure on the wound.

Nick raised a hand to stop Troy, refusing his help. "Go to the car, I'll follow. I'm serious. Start the car. Please."

Satisfied once Troy put his gun away, Alicia gave a nod of acknowledgement at his suggestion to get Nick to the car, preparing to help support Nick her side while keeping the towel in place.

They didn't even get him off the floor, however, her stubborn brother refusing his help for some reason. She frowned, trying to understand his reasoning. "Nick… come on."

Nick was peering at Troy knowingly. "I'll go once he's out of here and back in the car."

Here he was shot and even more injured than he was yesterday and he was rejecting Troy's help? Alicia aired Troy's incredulity. Nick had to be kidding.

Only he secondary proviso assured Troy he wasn't.

Troy laughed, sound laden with disbelief and exasperation and stepped over the girl again, kicking the trailer door open as he exited, snarling at the dog as it appeared to defend his territory again.

"Fuck off!" Troy growled.

If it were close enough Troy'd have kicked it square in his stupid teeth. The dog detected the danger and scuttled away, disappearing beneath the trailer, barking at him annoyingly as he headed for the Sedan.

Alicia half-expected Troy to knock Nick out, at least judging by the unamused look on his face. It seemed he, too, had his patience stretched thin, and Alicia knew sooner or later there would be an altercation between the two.

Not something she had time to consider now, however, as she draped an arm around her brother's waist to steady him so they could make their 'escape'. "You okay to walk?"

Satisfied that Troy left without any further arguments, Nick let Alicia help him up.

"It's just my shoulder, not my spine," Nick retorted with fleeting amusement. "I can walk, I'm fine. Let's just go."

He ushered her out of the trailer before him. He closed the door and followed Alicia to the car.

Nick's amusement, however fleeting, annoyed her. Alicia had come far too close to losing him too many times these past few days, and it was wearing her down. It didn't help that her body seemed to be growing heavier by the minute and that the mere walk from the trailer to the car had left her slightly winded.

"Let's get your rifle," he told Troy when they got in.

Troy didn't have to wait long for them to catch up, stopping Alicia before she got in next to her brother, keeping his voice intentionally low as he handed her the Sedan keys.

"Take your brother back to the cabin and get him stitched up. Don't let him be a sacrificial idiot. I'm going to get my rifle and I'll meet you guys back there in an hour or two."

Troy wasn't going to argue the logic of numbers or debate putting them in harm's way anymore – not for his needs. Troy didn't wait for her response or for him to realize his intention before jogging away from the Sedan toward the densely packed hillside.

Alicia pushed Nick's good hand to the towel to keep the pressure steady as they were forced to part, blinking up at Troy as he intentionally blocked her access to the car. She frowned, clenching the keys in her hand, not really comfortable with the idea of him going off alone. But she wasn't going to run after him like an idiot, either.

Alicia got into the driver's seat and started the car, glanced over at Nick to make sure he was still all right, and pulled out of the clearing.

It's not a mystery to Nick what Troy was trying to pull when he trotted away toward the woods. It made Nick curse. Why did he have to be so tiring?

"Drive back to the road and turn right on the fork. We'll meet him halfway, otherwise he'll be out there for hours we don't have. And in danger."

His command didn't come as a surprise, but it still made Alicia want to slam her head against the steering wheel.

"You two disagree on absolutely everything," she murmured, taking them through the forested area on the way back to the main road. "You clearly don't trust him."

And he shouldn't, in her opinion, but it had been somewhat of a shock to discover.

"Why were you so insistent on staying with him?" Had it simply been to get away from Mom? Alicia was genuinely curious.

"He doesn't take chances with people he doesn't know. He doesn't even want to bother and try to know them when he makes up his mind about them. Perhaps it's safer from a survival perspective, but what does it make me if I do the same or stand by enabling him? I don't trust him with people he deems dangerous. But I trust him with my life and the lives of those I love because he proved it to me. He's not an angel, but he's not hopeless. Never has been. I felt better with him than ever before with mom. He's honest, he doesn't manipulate me, or judge me for anything."

Nick shrugged, as if to rely that he didn't know what else to say, and pressed the towel tighter to his shoulder, wincing.

"There's the turn."

Alicia was grateful for his honesty and the fact he hadn't simply brushed her question aside like Mom would have. She knew that as the older sibling it would be hard for him to ever see her as anything other than his kid sister, but it was important to her, to our relationship, that he didn't treat her as a child. She was young, but she hadn't been a child for a very long time.

She nodded, taking the turn as it came up, vigilant in case they'd run into the dead or God forbid, the living.

"You love him?"

Nick looked up at her from his shoulder with surprise turning into confusion. "What do you mean?"

Alicia would have thought her question fairly obvious, but his gaze reflected heavy confusion.

"Do you love him?" she asked again, briefly meeting his eyes, unable to keep from smiling at the look on his face. "Like a friend," she clarified. "He's important to you? You care about him? You love him?"

Nick sighed, averting his eyes to the road as he debated it. Troy's face came to mind when he told Nick he loved him in the Jeep while Alicia was talking to mom at the river.

"I care if he lives or dies," Nick responded. "I wouldn't stick around if I didn't. And yes, I guess he is my friend."

He cared if Troy lived or died? That wasn't much to go on in Alicia's book. He could say the same about Miss Crazypants back at the trailer.

Admitting they were friends rectified that, though. It was good for Alicia to know. Troy hadn't hesitated to admit he cared for Nick. But, of course, Troy didn't seem to be bothered by labels or how others perceived him. There was a freedom in that she envied.

"Okay," she said. "Let's go get your friend."

* * *

There was freedom in knowing that Alicia would take care of Nick and that he actually trusted her to do so. Troy wondered sometimes if he'd gone from one extreme to the next. He'd put so much energy into the ranch, into keeping it together, afloat, and had redirected all of that onto his friend.

Troy was smothering him.

At least when he stopped to analyze things did it feel that way.

Maybe Nick considered him a carbon copy of his mother – with a dick.

Troy grimaced at the image, enjoying the climb the more intense it got, feeling a sense of satisfaction creep in that he hadn't this morning when he'd first needed the release.

Troy approached the road on the other side of the hill ten minutes later, being careful to stay among the trees so that he wouldn't be spotted when the sound of an engine stirred his into motion. Troy ducked behind a tree, peering in the direction the noise was coming from to see who'd be happening along, scowling in recognition the closer the vehicle got.

"Fuck sake."

Troy stepped out, easing onto the road and made a simple hand gesture to wave them down.

A small smile crept onto Nick's mouth as Troy signaled for them to stop. He didn't seem happy, which amused Nick more.

"We might need to go on foot soon enough," he told Alicia when she was slowing to a stop. "The woods get thicker at the top of the hill."

"I remember," Alicia said, and strangely she did.

She didn't pull over to the side of the road. What was the point? But she stopped just beside where Troy was waiting, allowing him to get in. He was clearly pissed.

"My brother's stubborn," she said with a shrug of explanation.

Troy glared at Nick in the front seat and remained silent as they drove the rest of the way.

When they reached the bend in the road and Troy knew they'd have to stop to hike up the side, he gestured for Alicia to pull over.

"If you have to be here, Nick, then you stay in the car."

"Fuck you, Troy," Nick tossed the towel on the dashboard and pushed the door open, climbing out of the car.

Alicia pulled the keys out of the ignition and looked back over her shoulder at Troy as Nick climbed out.

"He's not good with orders," she said. "Never has been."

She opened the door her side and headed outside, pulling the gun from her waistband to keep it at the ready.

Troy rolled his eyes skyward and slammed the door, curling his hands into fists. He wanted badly to punch something. "Whatever."

He was done trying to talk sense to Nick. Troy only hoped he wouldn't end up getting himself injured any further than he already was. Otto walked ahead of them and followed the same track he had the day before, steering only a little off course until the sounds of the dead started to beckon and easily show the way.

There weren't as many as there were the day before but they were everywhere, immediately reacting to the trio's presence. He picked up speed and removed his knife to begin dispersing them.

Nick let Troy take the lead. He was pissed, Nick saw it clearly. Troy needed an outlet, and he had it fully when the dead started to pop up between the trees. Alicia and Nick barely had any strays to pick up after him. He could wear himself out pretty quickly, but, as Nick recalled from the ranch days, he had a long-running stamina when it came to slashing the infected.

The closer they got to the clearing, the more were coming their way. Nick took out a few and felt the fresh warmth soaking into his sleeve. It stung, but not too badly yet. He could still ignore it, and he did.

The red tent was still standing. The bonfire that could have gotten out of control hadn't because of how well it was constructed. Big boulders framed the ashes, still seeping smoke. He bent and picked up Troy's rifle lying a couple of feet from it, and waved it at Troy.

"It's here."

Not too many dead were on the ground. Nick didn't remember the night all that clearly, but he recalled those Troy had killed in his frenzy, and they were the ones down. The rest were wandering like ghosts until they saw the living.

The red tent looked more frightening to Alicia now than it had the night before. It could have been the corpses sprawled out all around the clearing, accompanied by more of the walking dead, but she thought it was rather the realization of how close she had come to losing yet another part of herself. Lose was the wrong word. Taken. They would have taken a piece of her she would never be able to get back. Just like Troy had taken something from her by sending that horde to the ranch.

They looked around for a bit, in search of Troy's rifle, and it wasn't too long before Nick called out he'd found it. She let them go to claim it and crouched down on the ground next to a dead body in a white gown. The old woman. Mother Elise, Alicia thought they'd called her.

The sacrificial knife lay next to her and Alicia picked it up. It was beautiful really. Like a piece of lethal art. Even if it was currently covered in dried blood.

She decided to keep it. Just like she'd kept Jack's knife. They'd been trying to take something from her. She would take something in return.

Unlike when Troy would stop to check the random dead and see if they had anything of use on their bodies, he didn't bother with these people. He'd cut through them and moved on.

Troy headed toward the area he'd been taking pot shots from the day before and found only the man who'd been tussling with him, his arm and part of his face missing.

The dead companions had done a number on him.

Troy headed deeper off into the incline of forestry in case the dead or someone had pushed it off while they were fleeing and scrambling around for eats and stopped when Nick called to say he'd found it.

It was all the way at the bonfire.

Had someone picked it up and tried to make use of it?

Even if they had, they didn't get very far.

Troy grinned and made his way over, reaching out to take it from him, slinging the strap over his head where it could rest against his back like an old friend once Nick gave it to him.

"Thanks," Troy said, gaze flitting between the two and the few dead that remained in the distance, swaying toward is, struggling with the natural dips of nature and feeble obstacle course provided by rocks. "We done here?"

Nick didn't answer, approaching Alicia and the leader's corpse. He didn't linger, merely taking note of his sister picking the knife he remembered from last night's festivities. He went toward the tent, listening for any movement.

There was a lot of blood and a few bodies inside. All of them wore dresses that used to be white. A guard woman lay in the corner, shot in the face. Her weapons belt was still on her, so Nick crouched and pulled it off.

A sob.

He froze, surveying bodies. Was it his imagination?

She was hiding behind the altar table, shaking with tears and shock and apparently fever. Not all of the blood on her arms belonged to other people.

She was in a bad shape, but her eyes sharpened when they landed on Nick.

"They'll take you," she croaked. "They'll take you anyway, because you're marked. You're theirs. Theirs!"

Alicia gave Troy a nod, then followed her brother with her gaze, hesitating when he entered the red tent. She didn't want to go in there, didn't even really want them in there. She remembered the altar, the restraints… just more proof of what they'd intended to do to her had Nick died. Is that what would have killed her, she wondered? Would they rape her to death? It wasn't impossible. I'd seen rape-victims come in at the hospital, bleeding and broken beyond belief.

 _Would that have been me?_

"Nick, can we just go, please?" Alicia said, loud enough for him to hear her, not loudly enough to attract more of the dead in the area.

Troy trailed after Nick since he didn't response and there was nothing else to do. Otto had what he wanted and what he desired now was to get out and go.

The dead, too, had lost their appeal.

Troy slipped between the two siblings, unsure of what he was looking for inside the tent and lingered in what was assumed was the makeshift entrance way to provide support.

"They're fucking cockroaches," he commented with a whisper of irritation when the shaky girl revealed herself and her ominous reprisal. She didn't appear to have a gun like the previous survivor they'd run into but that didn't mean she was defenseless or without a weapon. "Let's move, Nick, Alicia's getting antsy."

The bitten girl didn't seem to notice Troy or Alicia, her red, tearful eyes never wavered from Nick. There was everything in them, fear and ire, and hatred, and accusation.

He fully accepted the latter because it was the tree of them who broke down their house of cards here.

"You'll be sorry when they get you," she kept hissing as if in trance. It seemed to be adding her a bit of strength. "You'll regret you didn't let it happen when it had to. You will regret it."

The gun felt like a bag of bricks when Nick leveled it on her.

"They'll get you," she promised, her eyes glistening. "They will. Soon."

Her head jerked back when he fired, a spray of red got lost on the tablecloth behind her.

Nick turned and walked out past Troy, shoving the gun back in his belt, feeling sick to his stomach.

Alicia jumped at the sound of a gun going off, the image of Nick lying dead inside the tent of doom burrowing itself into her mind and had her rushing for the entrance. She didn't make it there before Nick walked out, looking no more wounded than when they'd come here, but seemingly reluctant to meet her gaze.

Troy lingered at the entrance and she pushed herself forward to see what had happened, to understand.

Troy peered at the scene Nick left behind with as much disbelief or curiosity as Alicia and a deeper sense of aggravation than ever before. Troy couldn't believe he'd done that. Not because he'd killed the girl—although that was a mystery on its own—but because less than forty minutes ago he'd spurned Troy for wanting to do just this.

Troy'd have laughed, too, if he wasn't angry.

He whirled around and slipped all the way out of the tent, noting that the noise had made the dead on the outskirts more vigorous in their attempts to get to them.

Troy didn't care about that.

"What the fuck was that, Nick?"

Another one of the girls was creeping toward Nick nearly tripping over her innards.

She gifted him with another jolt of pain when he held her to stab his knife into her brain.

"What did it look like?" He turned to Troy, sheathing the blade.

Alicia watched the woman a brief moment, wondering if she had tried to attack Nick or if she had possible already turned. She couldn't quite see from this distance. She didn't stay long to watch what had happened inside, not because the dead bodies bothered her but because the tent itself did. Alicia's heart was pounding rapidly, her palms felt sweaty, and she knew if she spent much more time beneath the red canopy, she'd soon struggle to breathe. That in itself pissed her off, but she forced it aside, following Troy back out to her brother who put his knife into another woman. She'd already passed before they came here.

And she wasn't alone. More were coming their way.

Another "discussion" was about to break out between Nick and Troy, but Alicia didn't have it in her to pay it much mind at the moment, instead using her newfound knife to dispose of a few dead that no longer had the ability to walk and lay about the campsite like flopping fish.

Troy scarcely reacted as Nick took out a walker, side-stepping her as she fell down, unintentionally stepping on some of her squishy guts. "It looked like you killed an unarmed woman running her mouth. Is that suddenly a thing now? Or do the rules of morality only apply from minute to minute and how it suits the Clarks?"

Nauseous and a little woozy, Nick forced himself to look at Troy, his face reflecting nothing. Nick didn't know what he felt aside from exhaustion, anymore.

"She was bit in several places and running a fever. What would your morality code suggest to do about that?"

It felt like they were close to a breaking point with all the arguing they were doing, and Alicia couldn't tell for sure if this would become a serious problem, or if they were both just tired and unable to keep their emotions in check. Right now it didn't much matter.

They needed to get back and take care of Nick's injury. Not to mention they still had the horse to think about.

She started off in the direction of the car, assuming the two of them would fall into step behind her soon enough.

"In that case, she was going to die anyway. You can't pick and choose when you want to play God or the morality police, Nick. You either kill people or you don't."

Alicia's movement caught his eye and after a second's thought Troy followed her, pushing down the impulse to help him since he looked weak, assuming that Nick would be right behind them.

Nick heaved a ragged sigh, staring at the ground when he started away. Helpless anger, disgust, and a bottomless, impossible weariness sloshed together like tidal waves, draining the life out of him.

Maybe Troy was right, and Nick no longer saw anything in the right light. It was the worst that could happen to him, and he failed to evade it.

Before one of the still walking corpses gained on him, Nick started to move away from the clearing.

Alicia took care of the few dead in their way this time, but luckily there weren't too many of them. Most who remained seemed to be trailing behind them.

Alicia unlocked the car, but waited until Troy and Nick joined her before thinking about getting inside, handing the keys to Troy because he seemed to know the roads better than she did.

"You okay?" she asked Nick, one hand on his good arm pause him long enough for her to get a look at him.

Nick nodded in response to her question, and slipped in the passenger's seat.

Troy was eager for the distraction of driving and happily took the keys from Alicia, removing his rifle to hand it to her to put into the back with her, and slipped into the driver's while they exchanged a few words, waiting until both were seated and securely inside before easing the Sedan into reverse and heading back to their temporary home.

The drive was short and the roads empty of any more pagans lurking in the bushes.

He parked the Sedan beside the jeep so that it would be easier for them to transfer their stuff, suddenly exhausted and done with this day.

They needed a restart.

"Before we start transporting our shit from car to car, you need to get stitched up, Nick." A job Troy assigned to Alicia with a glance since she no longer appeared to be high. "Good?"

Alicia nodded, climbing out of the car and unlocking the jeep so she could put Troy's rifle away and retrieve the med kit, along with Troy's new sewing equipment. Like they'd already established, her needle-work wasn't all that great, at least not back in sixth grade. But her brother was not a pillow, and she would not have to embroider him with flowers. She could do this, had watched the procedure done a hundred times at the hospital. But it would still hurt him, and that was the part that made her nervous.

Nick grabbed the towel from the dashboard, the belt he took from the fallen guard in the tent, and stepped out of the car. He tossed the belt into the back of the Jeep, past Alicia, and went for the cabin's porch. He desperately wished for a drink or five.

Alicia followed in her brother's wake when she had what she needed, climbed the steps to the porch and dragged one of the chairs over to the other so she could sit beside him. Opening the med kit and the bottle of water she'd brought, she removed some gauze and wet it, carefully rolling the sleeve of his shirt up so she could get access to his new wound. It looked worse than the other had, but at least it was just a graze as well. No bullet.

Alicia cleaned it as gently as she could. The bleeding had stopped, but started up a little again with the friction of the gauze. Still, it was manageable.

"You okay with me stitching you up?"

Nick did his best to gnash his teeth together and not let the pain onto his face, for Alicia's sake. She didn't have to suffer through that, and he knew he would.

Nick shook his head at her question, made himself smile a little. "Who else would I trust with that?"

* * *

Troy climbed out of the Sedan and decided to stay with the vehicles while they headed inside to get him fixed up, rearranging the stuff inside to make space for what they'd taken. He didn't look and see, assuming that everything they'd taken was of value and necessary and stuffed it into the back of the car.

It didn't take him long.

When Troy was finished, he shut the door and leaned against it, eyeing the garage where the horse was waiting on them. It couldn't wait to come out.

* * *

"Troy did a decent job with me yesterday," Alicia murmured, holding up her bandaged hand before getting started on the needle and thread. "Though to be fair, I've been told I was high as a kite when that happened, so who knows what it really looks like under there."

Said with dark humor in a faint attempt to make them both feel better as she pinched his skin together in order to stitch it up, trying not to put too much focus on his pain. She knew it hurt like hell, but it had to be done.

Nick set his jaw, focusing on keeping from wincing, but it was a big test of tolerance. Even though he could remember his withdrawals that had been dozen times worse than this, it still was bad enough. Now that he felt like just lying down and not getting up for a week.

"So you don't even remember how bad it was?" he managed through gritted teeth, sneaking a glance at her. "Your hand? How much do you remember?"

Alicia worked carefully, finding the process easier than she would have expected and eventually her nerves abated.

"When he stitched me up?" she shrugged. "No, it hurt. But probably not as much as it would have if I'd been, you know… normal me. No pain when it happened, though. When I grabbed that knife. Guess that's one of the dangers of drugs, hm?"

Six stitches seemed to be enough. It would hold the wound closed, and might not leave too bad a scar. Though she doubted Nick would care much about that. He'd never been vain.

Alicia put the needle away and cleaned blood off his wound again before drying and dressing it in fresh bandages, rinsing his own hands shortly after.

"Not all drugs," he said. "But mescaline is a tricky thing. It can take you on a wildest trip and show you impossible things, make you feel things you'd never feel otherwise. At least how I know. Never tried it. And no, I meant what you remember from all that night. How much of it? If anything?" It occurred to him it might be a sensitive topic, making him wince. "Or if you don't wanna talk about it… it's okay, too."

Alicia hesitated a little, drying her hands on the thighs of her jeans, thinking it over.

"I remember bits and pieces. Some larger than others. Got to admit I'm still not quite sure what was real and what I just imagined.

"I saw Dad," she admitted, glancing over at him. "In the tent. He was all… messed up."

Nick frowned to herself, looking down at the wooden floor. "Well, that one wasn't real. You… think a lot about him?"

He looked back at her.

"Not as much as I should, probably." Alicia rinsed the needle they'd used and put the thread back in the kit. "But ever since Mom told me–" Alicia hesitated, briefly recalling she'd also told her Nick could never find out. But Alicia suspected he already knew. He'd understood it, even if it had gone over her head at the time. "You know… that it wasn't an accident."

The two were in deep conversation and it didn't take Troy long to join them, not conversationally, but physically. He sat down on the top step and leaned back on his elbows.

It was one thing to believe something was this or that way. The other thing was to get a confirmation. It somehow still stung Nick deeply, somewhere he didn't think it could.

"There is no 'should' in that, Lisha," he said. "It's not a duty to think of people or miss them. It's just… what is or isn't there, is all."

"I guess," she said, leaning back in her chair. "I thought of him a lot before the world went to shit. Lately, I've been distracted. "I saw other people too. Travis, Chris, Liza, Matt, Jake, the people from the cellar. They were all there, like freakin' ghosts. Guess I'm not handling my guilt as well as I thought."

She shrugged.

"It felt very real. They could touch me and I could touch them."

"When you lose people, you get endless what-ifs, and you keep wondering what you could've done differently, and whether any of that difference would matter and change the outcome. It's not easy to get over it, not for a while. Even if you know there was nothing you could do that would change anything, you still wonder. You still wish for a second chance you'll never get.

"The hardest thing is to forgive oneself, harder than forgiving others. You'll get there. Because there was truly nothing you could've done differently in that cellar. You did the best you could with what you got."

Nick glanced at her.

"I don't doubt it was real to you. Our dreams are, too, until we wake up."

"Yeah." Alicia reached over to briefly squeeze his hand, appreciating his words, his support. "Just gimme time."

She paused, looking from to Troy and back again. "Did I try to hurt either of you last night? In the clearing, I… that part's fuzzy."

"No," he responded. "You tried to save me, and you did."

Troy remember walking into the storage basement, seeing all those familiar faces scattered around the inside like dead insects and the strange clarity that had swept through him.

He had wanted to punish them for their betrayal, for their ingratitude and for surrendering to the Indians so easily when they should have stood their ground as a group and he'd wanted Jake to witness it.

All of it.

The latter hadn't gone according to plan and for that he was sorry.

Troy didn't want him to die, he hadn't intended to get Jake killed, and if there was one thing about that day that Troy could change, it would be that, and only that.

The rest got what they deserved. They were weak, anyway.

Or was it he that was weak?

Troy turned his left hand over and scrutinized the wound, the scar he'd been gifted from Mad Dog while trying to save Nick and flexed his fingers. It had healed well enough but there was a lingering of damage – an ache – that was new and imbedded beneath the skin.

"You didn't hurt me either. I can't say the same for the line of women that were around you, but that was all in self-defense, you shouldn't beat yourself up about that."

Alicia couldn't help but smile at Nick's revelation, though she felt a little sad for not remembering that moment. It would be nice to add some good with all the bad.

"I don't," she told Troy moments later. She knew she had hurt someone other than the Leader-woman, but there had been so many people running and screaming and pushing at her, she hadn't quite caught on who'd been in line of her knife. Alicia was grateful it was neither of the boys.

Nick wondered whether she remembered anything from their conversation last night, but didn't want to ask.

He picked up the towel and looked between them. "We ready to go?"

"Unless either of you want to take a time-out and get some rest, I'm ready."

They were the ones that needed it.

Alicia because she'd spent the night supercharged on artificial energy and only had so much rest, and Nick because being shot or even grazed took it out of you.

He could say and do what he wanted to demonstrate the contrary but Troy knew better.

"I'm good," Alicia said, handing the medical kit to Troy as she stood and walked off the porch. "I'll get the horse out."

They could rest in the car later. Right now that seemed like a damned deserved treat.

Troy accepted the medical kit and slipped it into his pants pocket, leaning to the left slightly so she wouldn't accidentally tread on him as she headed for the garage.

Nick rose from the chair and walked off the porch stairs.

Alicia opened the garage, and the horse trotted out, immediately taking care of its impending business.

"Perhaps you better wait in the car with Troy while I take him?" he suggested, approaching Alicia.

The horse still had the saddle and bridle on from the day before, and she could tell it was annoyed by that. Alicia couldn't blame him. Though she preferred to keep the saddle for her ride, she could remove the bridle. Or at the very least the snaffle bit, to give its mouth a break.

She looked back at Nick over her shoulder as he approached, then turned to him with an arched eyebrow, a look of challenge.

"Perhaps _you_ better wait in the car?" Alicia flashed him a small smile, trying to reassure him. She knew he was worried. "But we deliver him together, okay? I don't really want to meet with those people alone."

"You don't have to because I will," Nick said. "I promised them, so they expect me. Look, I don't wanna believe that Troy might be right and some of them knew about the sect. But if by any crazy chance Troy's paranoia isn't unfounded, I'd rather you stayed in the car. Just to be safe."

"I know you do," Alicia said, closing the distance between them and laying a hand on his good shoulder, somehow hoping what she was saying would help sink in better then. "But Nick, you can't hide me away whenever there might be danger. This is the world now, this is our life. And I promise you, I am actually quite decent at taking care of myself. I have been for a very long time.

"So I'm going to ride that horse back to the ranch, get some fresh air, some sun, clear my head. And you and Troy will have my back, just as when we travelled here. And then you and I hand the horse over _together_."

"I know you can take care of yourself, but not against a bullet when you're on a horse and such an easy target. Who knows if there are more crazies with guns around."

"And have you suddenly become a bullet-dodger?" Alicia arched a brow again, releasing him from her hold and moving towards the horse to take care of that snaffle bit.

The horse didn't run from her, too preoccupied trying to get at the grass. But she did have to struggle a bit to lift its head up enough to detach its mouthpiece. It came away slimy and with traces of grass.

"Well," Nick chuckled, following her, "it could be not just my shoulder and it wasn't her shitty aim that helped. Besides, if something happens, it better be me than you."

Troy sat with the medical box in his lap, eyeing the two as they followed the horse around, discussing who should ride it and the minor details in between.

He could have offered to do it himself but considering the disclaimer stipulations not to show his face in fear of offending the ranch peoples delicate sensibilities, he thought it best not to bother.

That would just start up a whole new fight, anyway.

"That's your opinion," Alicia countered, throwing the mouthpiece aside and checking the saddle before she climbed up and onto the horse, taking hold of the reins and turning around so she could look at Nick again. "It's decided. Let's get this over with so we can get the hell away from this place."

"Don't linger by the trailers, ride past them faster," Nick asked. "We don't need any more surprises."

He looked back to see where Troy was, and went for the Jeep.

Alicia nodded in response to Nick's request, trying to reassure him she would be careful. And she had every intention to be. She was not eager for another meeting with the crazies who might still linger out there somewhere.

Troy reached for the backdoor, slipped the medical box inside and climbed into the driver's seat, waiting until Nick had gotten into the passenger's before twisting on the engine and followed Alicia slowly.

The same way and with the same pace as he did when they first got here.

The horse walked at a normal pace for about five minutes before switching into a trot. It seemed eager to run, probably had some pent-up energy from being inside for so long, and she didn't discourage it from doing so.

Riding was less painful today than it had been when they first traveled here, and while Alicia still kept a close and wary look at her surroundings it also allowed her to enjoy their little trip.

When they got close to the trailers, she threw a glance over her shoulder to make sure Nick and Troy were paying attention, and sped up, allowing them to do the same. They got past without further incident, but she still felt a sense of unease until they had put them behind.

Nick couldn't get rid of the worry wiggling in his gut until they went past the trailers that looked as abandoned as they had before. He wondered if the girl went away or was still cowering inside one of them, wallowing either in grief or hate, or both.

When they turned off the road for the ranch, a couple of riders headed from the distance their way.

"Stop here," he told Troy, and when he did, Nick stepped out. "We'll be a few minutes, watch out for shit just in case."

He went for Alicia where she held the horse back waiting for him. The two riders trotted toward her. George and Matthew, like the night before.

"Howdy, fellas," George touched his hat, stopping in front of Alicia, and slipped off the horse, holding the reins to Matt. The young man took them and kept a bit behind while George approached them.

"Like we promised," Nick nodded at the horse. "Will you take him?"

"Of course," George said, stroking the steed's muzzle. "If you decided to leave, there's no place for a horse on the road. We'll take good care of 'im." He studied them in turn, his face getting a bit morose. "We tried to talk to Katie. She's just crying, not telling much, especially 'bout your other boy there… Troy." He stepped closer to Nick, his eyes searching Clark's. "Can you swear to me he didn't do anything…"

"He didn't," Nick said, holding his gaze like he did with Daniel. Only this time Nick felt he wasn't lying. Troy was many things, but a rapist he was not.

Alicia wasn't sure how she felt about hearing Katie had still not recovered from her time spent with Troy, but guilt was definitely not something that came to the surface as George spoke. For all Alicia knew, her crying could be a plot to make her own crimes seem less horrible, to make her people take pity on her. It was a clever move if it worked, but didn't particularly fill Alicia with sympathy. She wasn't able to forgive Katie. Not yet. The wound was still too raw.

"He wouldn't," she supplied when Nick fell silent and George still didn't look thoroughly convinced. "We wouldn't be with him if that was something he was capable of."

"All right," George said finally, and shrugged. "It's confusing when she doesn't talk, 'specially to her parents. We're all worried, she's such a cheerful girl."

He glanced between the siblings, then set his eyes on Alicia.

"I heard Nick's story last night. I'd be much obliged if you told me from yer point, you know? What has actually happened?"

"She'll bounce back," Alicia said dryly, feeling George's eyes on her as he asked for her version of the yesterday's events. Part of her didn't want to share, didn't want to divulge on the things that had happened and would have happened had things not turned out differently. But they did deserve to know, at least in part, who those people had been. Especially if some of them still remained.

"They took me from your guesthouse during the night and brought me back to their trailers. They believed in some sort of spirits and intended to kill Nick in their name, and rape me to commune with them. They made a game out of it, sent Nick out into the forest to hunt him down, while they fed me peyote."

Or at least that's what Nick assumed.

"Whoever managed to catch him, got to take their turn with me first." She was blunt and precise, because it was the only way she wouldn't become emotional. "But since Troy managed to find his way to us, he got to Nick before they did. Or Nick got to him. And they intervened. We managed to escape."

George's face was a show of emotions, most of them closer to disgusted disbelief. He shook his head, heaving a long exhale.

"Boy… What a mess," he uttered, pulling his hat out and running a hand nervously through his hair. "What a mess. And you say Katie – our Katie – was a part of it? That she's… one of them?!"

"She was the one fixing them with a prey," Nick said. "We're not blaming her as if she came up with it – I'm sure it's not coming from her. If you had these people around for a while, they got to her somehow. Maybe not just her. So how deep her beliefs in any of their spirits is, or whether she was merely scared and tried to protect all of you by playing along – it's up to you to coax out of her. We're just glad she did tell Troy the truth in the end, so he got to us."

"I'm sorry it all happened, you guys," he said. "I never thought any of that was possible. Even though so much bad stuff's happening everywhere, we don't get that in our ranch here, we've been that lucky. Darn."

He shook his head again, than stroke a hand over his head and put the hat back on.

"Let's do this: you come with me a minute, we get your horsie settled, and then we give you something nice for the road, okay? Lemme do this for ya, it's only fair. It's a great shame to my family home here when bad things happen to my guests under my roof. Let me at least try to make it up to y'all. Seriously, come with me a minute."

He made a welcoming gesture and started away. They followed with the horse.

Every instinct Alicia possessed screamed at her not to follow George into the ranch, but Nick was already on his way and there was not chance she'd let him go on his own. She didn't hand over her weapons this time, but nor did anyone ask to do so. It made her feel somewhat more at ease, knowing she could pull the gun from her waistband if someone suddenly jumped them.

Rosemary smiled and made them feel very welcome as she hustled around the kitchen with a white cotton bag, shoving bread, apples and pie in it. She handed it to Alicia, then added a bottle of cider, then went to the pantry and came out with another cotton bag. She opened it to show them.

"Dried meat," she said with a proud smile. "An old recipe to keep the Wild West rangers and Native worriers alike fed and strong out there in the prairies. It's a real treat these days. Takes a few bites to keep one strong."

"Thank you, it's very generous," Nick said.

"Aw, it's nothing."

She bound the bag and gave it to him, smiling as she looked between them.

"It's sad that you leave, but I wish you to be safe. And maybe you'll return sometime, we'll be always happy to see you. Take care."

George saw them to the place where he picked them up, then mounted and waved before turning his horse and trotting to where Matt was waiting.

Alicia didn't get to say goodbye to the horse, but it was okay. She saw it in the stables as they passed, having the saddle taken off and its mane brushed. It had probably been quite some time since someone last did that. The horse would be fine here. Would thrive, even.

She hooked her arm in Nick's as they walked away, the cotton bag slung over her other. She wanted him close. She still felt like someone might jump out at any moment to take him away from her again.

"Think they're sincere in not having known?" she asked once they were close to the truck. "Or are they pretending?"

Nick had always been better at reading people than she was.

Nick shook his head. "I can't be certain, but I feel George and Rosemary didn't really know it went so far," he said. "They had talked to the trailer people. They might have suspected they were bad news. But I don't think they knew exactly what was happening. And when their guests went missing – they didn't want to get into it. They just went with Katie's 'they left' theory. Because it's hard to imagine the truth, and hardly a way to find out when it's a discreet operation like they had."

"Maybe," she concurred, though she still didn't understand how it could have gone over their heads. At least if it had happened several times. Maybe they didn't pay close enough attention to the people they let in.

Troy watched Nick and Alicia meet up with the riders outside of the ranch, exchange a few words like old friends and then enter a few minutes later. When they returned, they weren't emptyhanded and looking a little exhausted as if the last task had taken it out of them and was reflected on their features.

They needed to find shelter and settle for at least two straight days.

Troy turned on the engine and mashed a hand against the hooter to give a single honk to hurry them up.

Alicia removed two apples from the bag and handed one to Nick, got into the back of the jeep and handed the other up front to Troy.

"So, anyone got an idea of where we should go? I'm going to assume that my seeing Troy blow Proctor John's head off last night was not real, and that he and his men are still very much a threat?"

Troy took the offered apple as she got in, thanking her quietly, scrubbing it on the front of his shirt while he waited for Nick to hop in beside him, and then slowly turned them around.

He didn't want to loiter outside of the ranch any longer than was necessary. He was officially done with them and their pagan bullshit.

"You saw me do that?" he asked bombastically, tickled, smirking at her through the rear-view mirror. "Maybe that shit you were on gifted you a premonition."

He assumed it was answer enough. He bit into the apple, toyed with the gears to sweep it into second so that they didn't waste fuel on pushing the engine on first and waited on the whereto, following the road out the way they'd come.

"I did," she briefly met Troy's gaze in the rear view mirror before turning to locate the pillowcase of loot she'd found at the trailers. She removed her boots and her bra, putting the latter on without even removing her shirt. One of those talents all girls seemed to possess that men could never figure out.

"I'd rather we didn't check it out," Nick put in, tossing up the apple and catching it. He wasn't really into chewing anything right now, as weird as it was.

Or, perhaps he was more into trying out that meat. The way she described it was tasty enough to crave to try.

"I vote for Arizona as our next pit stop," he added. "Some nice sightseeing is in order."

"It's a good a place as any." Like Alicia said before, this world was now just different circles of hell. Didn't really matter where they went.


	19. Chapter 19

**STRANGER DANGER - PART 1**

Nick let the dead man's legs fall and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, surveying the small town square in front of him. Abandoned cars looked like they had been here for a few decades instead of three years; the store's windows were dark and dusty. It was almost fully cleaned out except for a couple of beans cans that had rolled under the counter and thus had not been discovered before Alicia decided to check.

Nothing and no one was moving around here, but the eerie feeling of being watched refused to go away. The skin on the nape of his neck was crawling, and he couldn't shake it. Eventually, he forced himself to redirect attention to the corpse he had just dragged out of the church they had picked for the night.

The man didn't seem to have died too long ago. Huge chunks of flesh were ripped out of his neck and arms, which appeared to be the cause of death.

Was he sleeping when it happened? Were they all? Who sleeps without a watcher these days?

Perhaps they felt they were safe in that church. Perhaps they didn't lock the doors. Perhaps…

Nick had a strange kind of hunch. It was like a pearl in a pile of shit – a very unlikely discovery – and yet, it somehow clung to his mind. Wondering, he ventured to check the corpse's pockets. He could barely contain an amazed chortle when he fished a small baggy out of an inner hidey-hole of the dirty denim jacket. Nick stared at the brownish powder inside, both amused and a little scared of such an ominous call from the past. He didn't need to smell or taste it to know what the powder was.

So they got high and got unlucky. Exactly like Nick would have on the first day the apocalypse started. In a church, of all places. That's some huge-ass cosmic joke, indeed.

He pocketed the baggy and tried the body next to the junkie, but there was nothing but a used syringe.

Poor bastards.

"Found it."

Nick turned and looked at Alicia standing in the doorway brandishing a bunch of wires.

"No one needs the phone here," she said, and jerked her chin toward the bodies at his feet. "You done?"

"I think there's two more inside."

"Well, Troy's not gonna help." A small acidic smile tugged at her mouth. "He's not there."

"I know, he went to check the perimeter. It's fine. Just two more."

She turned and went inside, a half of the door creeping closed behind her when she wasn't propping it with her foot anymore. Nick sighed and glanced around again, displeased with still feeling someone's eyes on him.

Then he heard it. A walker shuffled from around the corner of a store next to the church, saw him, and picked up the pace, limping. Nick watched him with tired patience, pulling his knife from the sheath on his hip. As the dead got closer, he saw it wasn't dirt on his face. There were words. Someone wrote a message on the dead man's face with a black marker.

Frowning, Nick made a step closer. The sun had gone down, and it was getting dark rapidly; he had to strain to make out the message. When the dead approached, Nick stabbed the blade into his temple, bracing him by the neck, and as the corpse was slumping down, Nick read I FOUND GOD. The _I_ was drawn between the eyebrows, FOUND and GOD – on the cheeks.

"What the…" Nick muttered, then started to turn around to see who approached from behind, but the world blacked out on him. He went down, not knowing what had hit him.

* * *

Troy hunted the foot-draggers around the church, taking them out one at a time with a piece of lead pipe he'd acquired from outside one of the stores, toying with them until he was spent and convinced that they'd be safe for the night. As much as he detested the nomad lifestyle Nick was determined to live, Troy enjoyed this part of it – the everyday fight – challenge that refined what abilities he'd obtained since the world broke apart, keeping things from spinning out of control when the need to find a place to hunker down in started to become too much.

When the last of the sun's light began to slope toward the horizon, he made his way back to church, cleaning the infected blood from his pipe with a part of the shirt he'd ripped off his last kill.

"Need a hand?" he asked brushing past Alicia and into the church. She'd tied a sequence of wires around one door's handle and was attempting to do the same on the other. Only they were different lengths and pulled free every time she tried to test her system. "Might be easier if you used two zip ties, one on each side and wound the wire through it as support."

"Very astute, Sherlock," she retorted, hardly turning to face him. "I'll just run down to the hardware store and grab some."

He dug around inside the bag he'd stuffed with goodies pilfered from a vending machine outside an abandoned vee's video and a couple of the adjoining supply stores. If there was one thing moving from place to place had taught him, it was that you could only take what you needed. No more, no less. Tonight had been a special occasion though and with all the buildings packed around the church it had made it even easier.

Troy removed a packet of loose zip ties and tossed it toward her feet. She stopped mid-alternate plan and looked down, brows furrowing as if he'd thrown something poisonous at her and then wordlessly picked them up.

He wasn't expecting a thank you and she didn't offer him one.

"Where's Nick?" he asked, looking around the inside of the darkening interior, listening for sound, having figured that he was in the restroom or looking for something with which to light the candles.

He'd found a torch in the hardware store but no batteries.

"You didn't see him on the way in?" Alicia asked, threading a zip tie onto the door handle, pulling it tight as she sharply moved to her feet. Troy gave a shake of his head and collided with her as they simultaneously attempted to exit the building, loosely holding onto one another to make sure they didn't land on their asses.

Neither apologized, neither said anything, alarm bells on high alert.

She descended the trifling set of stairs ahead of him, running to where he assumed she'd last seen Nick despite the darkness that had closed in around the town. Troy gave chase. No streetlights worked and the moon wasn't full, but they could see distinct outlines of what they knew were bodies.

"Alicia, wait!" Troy snapped, convinced that he'd eviscerated most of the threat they might have had to face tonight from the dead but unable to shake the feeling of instinctual dread that said otherwise.

"Nick!" she yelled, raising her voice as if she hadn't heard Troy at all. "Nick!"

Troy rushed up behind her and closed a hand around her mouth to shut her up, wincing when instantly her teeth sunk into the inside of his palm and forced him to remove it. She whirled around, eyes shiny in the dusk with a look of hatred he knew and didn't have to fully see to know was there.

"Yelling will wake the dead, you need to tone it down."

She shoved his chest and stumbled back a step, chastised and at once on guard.

' _Good, she's back to thinking rationally_.'

"We need light," Troy stated. He could feel her want to deny him and tell him to go to hell, but she knew he was right and arguing would only waste time.

"Fine," she hissed in a tone more worried than stubborn, deviating back in the direction of the church and toward the car they'd picked up a couple hundred miles back before hitting this Cracker Jack town.

He didn't move from the spot she'd left him and focused on his surroundings.

Where could Nick be? And why, if he'd gone deeper into town to dispose of the bodies, hadn't he told Alicia or at least made her aware of where he might be? As reckless as he could be, that wasn't like him.

A flood of orangey light cut through the thought and allowed Troy to see the faces on the bodies. They were everywhere, scattered erratically while some were piled together not too far outside of the building we intended to hole up in.

Those he recognized as he'd helped put them down inside the church.

Alicia joined him again, temporarily throwing a shadow across the stage show as she cut across a beam to get a closer look herself, a weapon now in hand. In unison, they jumped from examining one pulverized face to another in search of Nick. They didn't find him and nor did they come across anything other than his knife imbedded in the temple of a straggler with nonsensical graffiti on its rotting face.

It was the first time Troy had seen anything like that.

The one thing they had managed to get lucky with and acquire for themselves weeks prior was a set of hand radios. Devices they insisted to keep on them at all times in case of an emergency or if they'd strayed too far apart.

Only he hadn't called across the channel.

Maybe he couldn't?

Troy unhooked the receiver from his waistband, grip tightening on the pipe he was holding as he spoke: "Nick, where are you, man? Nick, answer me dammit." He didn't care for proper codes he already knew and repeated the communication, dreading the thought of hearing his own transmission crackling from a spot nearby. Thankfully, it didn't. When he eventually gave it a rest, Alicia took the wheel with her own zeal, desperate and fanatical. She'd come close to losing him before and the idea of going through that again was playing murder on her psyche. Troy's, too. Troy was only out here because of Nick.

She had no success, either.

"Kill the lights and save the battery, I'll take a look around town and see if I can find him. He might've just tripped and… hit his head."

Alicia internally debated the order and he could see she wanted to form her own search party, but if Nick was hurt, if there was a possibility that something terrible had happened to him, someone needed to be within a walking distance of the car. She agreed with a nod as Troy jogged away, her eyes automatically bouncing off the corpses they'd already inspected and then further as if he might be sitting in a corner somewhere playing hide and seek.

"Anything?" Alicia chimed after twenty minutes of radio silence, unable to contain herself.

Troy had wandered into clothing store after clothing store, aware—that in the last—there was a distinctly clumsy noise in the back as someone or something thumped around.

"Nothing," he responded, speaking quickly into the receiver, the noise faltering and then increasing.

He was moving with all the grace of a snail, feet sliding across the linoleum or wood floors, kicking aside debris as he tried to navigate in the dark and inch his way toward the source. He wished they'd hit the town sooner and when it was still light. He returned the radio to his hip and slapped a hand against the counter to draw out the dead, to see if it had a clear path to get to him, unsure if maybe Nick himself had snuck in here after being ambushed.

Not that Troy saw the troop of skin munchers or ran into anything that could have done that but he wanted to leave no stone unturned. As stupid as these dead fucks were, they could take your face off. He grimaced at the idea that that might have happened to Nick and that he could be bleeding out somewhere giving into the inevitable fate.

How long had he been out on his own? Forty minutes? Sixty?

If his previous calculations were correct and Troy could take to the bank his experiments, his estimation was that he had ten minutes – ten minutes and Nick could be gone forever.

"Nick?!" he called slapping his hand down harder on the counter, ignoring the accompanying sting he got for his fierce efforts. The noise in the back grew louder, filling his ears with a distinct series of groans that was unmistakable.

The bastard was trapped.

After Troy disposed of what had turned out to be a woman with long blonde hair that had come off his hand, he made his way up the main street and passed the same stores he had before.

Everything was as he'd left it and Troy was beginning to seriously doubt he'd find Nick here.

He circled the square and slowly made his way back toward the church when lights flooded the street again and Alicia rolled up beside him on the old Nissan.

"You should be at the church."

"Fuck you and fuck that. He isn't coming back there, okay?"

"How do you know that?"

"How do you know that he is? He's my brother. I just— I have a hunch."

"You're psychically connected now?"

Alicia rolled her eyes. "What if he does come back and we're not there?"

"You want to wait, then go wait, but I'm going to drive around and see if he's maybe around hanging a house or the library or heaven forbid a liquor store tucked away in the vodka aisle."

He braced a hand over the edge of the car door and gestured to the shop in question.

"He isn't?"

"I've been inside every one of these stores. This place is a practical ghost town aside from the few roamers."

Alicia cursed and pressed a foot to the gas, sending the car lurching forward and into a slow crawl. His hand bounced off the side of the frame with a crack. It wasn't hard but the hit and motion had been unexpected.

"Fuck," he gritted, scrambling alongside the moving vehicle on clumsy feet, smacking the frame to get her to stop.

She did and he got in without a word.

They drove through town, familiarizing themselves with more than the main street as best they could in their limited light, looking for anything that might have been a Nick signal, stopping only once to siphon gas from another car when they'd started to run dangerously low.

They'd tried the radio intermittently in-between with no luck.

"We should head back to the church, there is no way he got this far out."

Alicia didn't argue this time and the trek back to the church was agonizing. When they pulled up outside and Troy got out, she remained seated, her head tiredly tipped back and rested against the headrest. He didn't have to be a rocket scientist to know that the night had taken its toll on her and that she was crying.

He headed into the church, hopeful that Nick was waiting there for them, apologetic and with explanation. Only he wasn't and the place appeared even darker.

"Nick, are you in here?"

No reply came. Troy shuffled toward a pew in the back and sat down, easing into a horizontal position, letting his eyes fall closed while he waited for Alicia to join him.

Alicia glanced across the driveway at the doors she'd been fiddling with a couple of hours ago, loathing the eerie quiet and helplessness that had assailed her. She was sick of this feeling, this everyday fear of loss.

She reached for her radio and forced the sadness out of her voice so she could attempt another call and be clear, "Nick? Do you hear me? Over. Nick! Please, respond. Nick."

* * *

When the world started to flicker back, there wasn't much to see. His vision was blurry, his head was busting. There was some poor orange light, probably from candles, but he couldn't assess the surroundings. Someone was hovering over him; something liquid pouring into his mouth.

"There, there," a female voice cooed. "You need to drink this."

Nick coughed, water spilling over his cheeks, but the woman held him firmly down by the jaw, forcing to drink the fill until she let go. She looked like some weird forest spirit, with a bulky body and a mane of dreadlocks.

She broke into a cackling laugh, standing over him, and showcased a half-full bottle.

"It's just water, honey. You need a lot of it. It will make you strong again."

She put the bottle down on the floor next to him and shuffled off.

Nick looked around. It was some abandoned diner's kitchen. A few candles flickered on the metal counters around him. His left wrist was locked in a handcuff, another bracelet – to a chain wrapped tightly around a pipe going from floor to ceiling. There was some caked blood around a laceration near his right temple. He took quite a hit, and his brain was buzzing with a nasty, nauseating migraine, the hurt temple throbbing like a rotten tooth.

With his free hand, he tried the chains and handcuffs and realized it wasn't going to snap for him. There was no divine intervention to expect. His radio was missing, so was his knife. He recalled sticking it into a walker's temple before the world went black. I FOUND GOD, the walker's face said.

The church. Alicia. Troy.

He dreaded to call out for the woman to ask about them. Maybe she didn't see them? Maybe they were not here. Without Nick, they would probably fight like rabid dogs, but at least, they were somewhat safe. Hopefully.

Hopefully…

"Hey!" he yelled at where the woman disappeared. "What the fuck you think you're doing?"

He remembered the baggie and checked the pocket.

It was gone.

He swallowed hard, just becoming aware of feeling strange. He shifted closer to the pipe, rolled up his left sleeve, strained to see the inside of his elbow and found nothing. Then checked the right one, and, although the light of three candles was too poor to see for sure, the skin was sore to the touch.

"I'm doing you a favor," the woman said.

Nick turned to see her bulk in the doorway leading from the kitchen into the diner's hall with tables.

"What the hell are you even rambling about?" he demanded, getting angrier by the second. And more scared for the two he left behind. He couldn't let himself ask. If she didn't know about them, she shouldn't.

"I know you," she said, making his blood turn cold. "I know your potential. You're so strong. But there's a flaw. I will take care of it, though. I will make you strong again."

Nick tried to understand, but drew a blank. Ire sunk its teeth in him harder. "What?!"

"Others make you weak – when you let them. We shall fix it." She bent and set another bottle next to the half-full one. Then straightened up and pointed. "Drink."

"Don't want to."

She smiled and produced a gun and pointed it at his leg. "You really do."

He considered how much deeper this shit would get with a hole in his knee, and took the half-full bottle.

She laughed and lowered the gun. "Good boy. Bottoms up."

He obeyed.

The radio crackled from somewhere outside the kitchen. "Nick? Do you hear me? Over. Nick! Please, respond. Nick."

Alicia.

"Don't worry," the woman said. "Drink. I'll get your call."

"Don't you—" he started.

"See, this is what we need to fix," she said, pointing the gun again, her smile disappearing like sun behind a storm cloud. "Drink."

He did. She left with two empty bottles, and he lay down on the floor, his mind reeling.

A faint high and nausea with raging headache didn't help him think at all. And then they started to abate. He could barely notice how it happened, but the familiar warmth was seeping in. Lulling him to relax and let go. Nick wasn't used to resisting it, so he didn't manage for long.

* * *

 **"** Nick… Nick, please, please, if you're there, just… Say something. Anything. Nick."

Sobs. H could hear them, subtle sounds barely audible among the crackling radio distortions reaching him from the diner. He felt his heart shrivel and ache, thrashing against his ribs as if it wanted to dash out and to her. Knowing this wasn't much of his fault, he still felt every stab of remorse for making her suffer. She didn't deserve to be abandoned again. She didn't deserve any more pain because of some new whacko.

What was her problem, anyway?

Crazies didn't need much to get their crazy rolling, but this one didn't seem schizophrenic any more than he would. Hearing his sister cry in pain of utter, helpless agony of the unknown, he wished he could squeeze the life out of that loony with his bare hands. A part of him that was still sane and holding on by the skin of its teeth realized it wasn't all that simple, nor fair. No more violence – even if he had a chance to use it – would help him here. He needed to get in touch with his cunning, nurtured through all the years of addiction riding his car. He needed to manage to read that book.

The radio died out soon enough. Nick heard something in the background, like Troy attempting to find a common language, and then the transmission ended.

For the best, he'd say. If she was getting her kicks out of their distress, there wasn't going to be enough. Like for any junkie, no dose can be the last one. There's always a craving for more.

His headache was gone, he found with slight surprise. But then, it wasn't all that unexpected given she gave him a shot. What was alarming, however, was the overall discomfort and nausea that refused to go away. He remembered having read somewhere that one could die from drinking too much water. He couldn't recall how much was too much. Two small bottles were scarcely that, but somehow his mouth was getting dry again, and he could use a gulp. Something was off. Completely off. And not just the whole crazy stranger scenario.

He winced, rubbed his forehead as if it would make his thoughts any clearer, his eyes closing. It didn't. It was a strange high, a morbid high he couldn't remember experiencing before. Not like that. It could be the heroin – whatever quality that was – or it could be something else. It could be him, for all he knew. Maybe his body wasn't all into diving back into a rusty habit, and the cozy phase of high was passing too soon. All that water… Nick felt heavy, his whole body, his brain – everything felt heavy. He just wanted to check out for another hour. Or a day…

His thoughts stretched out as he started to doze off.

* * *

Alicia entered the church, dropping the bag Troy had walked in with earlier at her feet, busying herself with the door again as if it were her mission to finish the last task Nick had assigned her.

"Where are your cigarettes?" Troy asked without opening his eyes.

If there was one thing the world seemed in ample supply of at times, it was that, and the two siblings made consistent work of finding their guilty pleasure at every stop. Troy had read somewhere long ago that it staved off hunger and he suspected at times that's why they clung to it so desperately but he couldn't get past the taste.

"I don't want to bum one," he stated when he saw she had no intent of digging for them and continued to ignore him as if he were no more than an annoying ghost. "I want your lighter."

This made her pause, and although he couldn't see her face in the darkness, he knew she was considering whether or not to politely adhere to his request or tell him to fuck off and leave her alone.

Hostility was the only speed their relationship had, and with Nick out of the picture, it was more intense than ever.

The funny thing was that Troy had never known her to be so angry – not even when they first met. He presumed that losing Jake, losing Madison, and now losing Nick—at least temporarily, he hoped—was drawing that line of tolerance to near non-existent stretch.

She finished with the door, stepped over the bag and dumped the lighter onto the bench beside him. He slid a hand along the wood until he found it and walked to the front of the church to where he knew a stack of candles had been seen earlier.

He lit them one at a time, stopping only when he was satisfied they could see enough of one another and the room to feel safe. He tossed her the lighter when he was done, and she caught it. He collected the bag she'd dumped at the door, removing a candy bar for himself.

"You should eat," he stated, knowing Nick wouldn't appreciate his letting his sister die of starvation. She gave a hem and eased onto a pew on the opposite side of him, five chairs away as if she feared contamination.

Troy removed another chocolate and tossed it across the room. It landed on the bench in front of her but she made no effort or move to retrieve it, instead, she focused on the radio she was still clutching, holding onto it as if she were counting down the minutes to the next time she could try and summon a response again.

* * *

Something pushing into his side ended the somewhat pleasant floating in a pool of faded visions that meant no more than passing clouds to someone lying on a lawn gazing up. The woman stood over him, poking his side with a long stick. The end she used for it luckily wasn't pointed as the other was. It looked like a handle of a shovel or a fork with one end that had been sharpened. Anyone these days would have a clear idea what for.

She set a fresh bottle next to Nick. "You should drink more. Or you'll get weak."

Grunting, Nick sat up against the pipe she had chained him to, took the bottle, reluctant to obey at once, but the thirst was there, and he unscrewed the cap. She smiled a little as he took a gulp, then another before setting it back down on the floor.

They eyeballed each other for a long moment. He went through all the standard phrases in his head: why are you doing this; what is it exactly that you do; just stop fucking around and let me go; what the fuck is your problem – which led to the same Why are you doing this and thus closing the loop. None of it felt like it fit. Not to this one. If he was going to be frank with himself, it rarely fit to anyone. The world was made of people so unique they hated to respond to the same treatment in the same ways. They all saw themselves as protagonists of their own stories, and that meant Nick had to find a special key to decipher her.

"You wrote that on his face," he said, studying her serene face in the flickering lights. "You saw it happen?"

She canted her head sideways like an interested bird, her smile unchanging. Like some fucking weird Buddha statue accidentally came alive. "I did," she said. "It was beautiful."

"What was?"

"He was finally strong." Her eyes glistened with some strange admiration; it sent a comber of cold up his spine.

That explained a lot, and none of it was comforting.

* * *

Troy was on his third candy bar and starting in on a packet of chips when she finally reached for the chocolate he'd thrown. She still wasn't speaking – well not to him.

She was glued to the radio, intermittently speaking into it, relaying what sounded like childhood experiences they'd shared and what she longed to relive again now that they were closer.

For a moment, Troy envied their bond and the fact that he and Jake would never get that chance.

He waited until she took a break and then he, too, tried again, repeating the same phrase he had before. She turned in her seat and fixed him with an emotionless look.

"You want a soda?" he asked. He plucked one from the packet at his side, giving it a gentle shake in invitation.

She climbed to her feet, radio in hand and started toward him.

"Thank you," she mumbled as she took it, so much so that he wasn't entirely sure that's what she'd said. He retrieved another soda and popped the tab.

"Are you tired?"

"No," she said and sounded anything but.

"Me neither."

* * *

"Drink your water," she said, her stick shifting subtly to point. "You'll be stronger."

Nick squinted at her, his brain's gear turning sluggishly. Was that a hint or something? "What's in it?"

She laughed, like a witch would, he imagined. "What does it look like? What does it taste like?"

He considered it and allowed a small, knowing smile. "Not everything's what it seems. I've learned it a long time ago, the hard way. So now… I have to ask again, what's in it?"

She shrugged, amused. "You can ask. But asking doesn't change the answer."

"An answer and the truth are two different things. I ask for truth."

She kept looking at him with the same inscrutable smile and a faint interest. "Drink. And tell me what it is."

He saw she wouldn't let him refuse, so he took the bottle for another swig, sloshing it around his mouth this time as if it would help take it apart for components. It tasted like water. Nothing weird about it, just a faint sweet taste. But water could taste like that sometimes, when it was good or you were too thirsty. He wondered if he could truly feel a poison if it were there. Was it there?

He set the bottle down and looked at her. "You saw what happened in the church?"

"I did." She sat down on the floor, her legs crossed, like an Indian at the tribe bonfire. "They were weak. They couldn't protect themselves. This world has changed. It's done forgiving weakness. I made them strong."

"But we put them down. There was nothing strong about them. Not after they died and turned."

Her smile dimmed a tad. "They can't make anyone weak, anymore. They won't try to help anyone, anymore. They were all they were meant to be. Strong. Powerful in their truth." She smiled again leniently, like one smiles at a child who can't comprehend some simple truth yet due to age. "You will understand. You will see."

"How?"

"How do you explain the sky to a blind man?" she asked. "You have to see for yourself, Nick."

He drew in a deeper breath, considering her. She was a piece of work, and he unexplainably felt like he was running out of time to crack her. His nausea worsened, and to that added a strong urge to urinate. He tried to ignore it, groping for more words inside his mind that was a pitch-black room with no way to tell where the light switch was.

"You want me to find God, too?"

She threw her head back, cackling, then looked at him with surprised mirth. "Do you want to find God, Nick?"

He thought about it, then shook his head slowly. "Don't think I really feel that way yet."

"Then maybe you shall find your strength instead. And keep it this time."

"See, I felt I had it. I was clean for three years, and you forced me to use again. How does that play with your making people strong tune?"

She leaned forward confidingly. "You picked it, haven't you. With your own hands. I let you have it. Some people say that repetition is hell. But how else do we learn if not through walking through hell? We all want the easy way, so we could be weak. It's easy to be weak. But weak don't deserve to be. There is no place for weak, anymore."

She got back to her feet and turned to leave.

"I need to use the bathroom," Nick said. She turned to look at him, pondering. He smiled apologetically. "As much water never stays inside."

She shuffled past him deeper into the kitchen, made some metal-clanging noise and returned with a big casserole. She put it down by his side and left him alone. He heaved a sigh, took the lid off the offered pot and peeked inside. It was absolutely clean. He cast a glance at the doorway, then slowly got up onto his knees, undoing his pants.

Once that business was taken care of and he was sitting back down, a wave of nausea overwhelmed him out of the blue, and he barely managed to take the lid off and let the water make its other way out of his body. The process was quick, but painful. A pair of strong hands was wrenching out his guts so the pain was blinding. He pushed the closed casserole to the side and lay down on his back, trying to breathe deeper. It barely helped. There was a stabbing party in his stomach and a stampede of wild horses in his skull. He took two swigs of water, then tried to relax with his eyes closed. He felt like the floor beneath him was rocking on some invisible waves. It made him sick, but there was barely anything to heave out.

Gradually, his consciousness started to fade. As it did, he heard Alicia calling out his name, quieter each time.

* * *

Time ticked by listlessly and the radio silence continued. Alicia had moved to sit beside Troy and was making a sizeable dent in their snacks. Silence reigned and he steadily began to give into the deeply rooted tug of exhaustion, a descent interrupted by the not-so-gentle sound of distinct sobbing. Troy blinked, confused and startled, studying the crying girl beside him as if she were an alien beamed from the heavens. He hadn't dealt with a chick's feelings since his first year of high school, and even then the idea was stomach-turning and nerve-wracking. He ran from those situations, and if given half a chance, he'd do it again – he'd do it now.

This was Nick's sister, though, and considering what she was going through – what they were going through – she deserved more from him, more than the comfort a stale candy and an expired soda could provide.

Troy slid an arm onto the back of the pew and placed a hand upon her shoulder, patting awkwardly, squeezing in support here and there, half-expecting her to karate chop his touch away. She turned into it, into him, surprising him as she slouched closer, mushing the foodstuffs between them like a marshmallow between two cookies.

He was contemplating what he could say, rehearsing a couple of lines he'd seen in trite movies about how everything would be alright and how it was good to cry and get things off your chest.

He didn't believe any of it.

Thankfully, she saved him from the hassle of having to conjure up a half-decent lie.

"I can't lose him. I can't lose him again," she mumbled against his shoulder, her mouth oddly close to his neck now, her hot breath doing things to his groin that Troy was sure would be viewed as fairly inappropriate. If she wanted to go down that route he wouldn't object, it was pretty much the only form of care he was good at and with and had regularly indulged in with Marcy Strutter as therapy.

Loss changed people. It did things to the mind.

"This was supposed to be a new beginning for us. Just us. We were supposed to become our own people, to make our own rules and prove that we could be better than her. He promised me, he promised me he wouldn't leave and he did. He did. Again. He always leaves!"

Troy didn't mind that she'd conveniently left him out of that equation. It was what it was. Her crying and anger was border obnoxious, as if by some stroke of luck, he hit the jackpot and her emotional dams were breaking.

He wanted to kill himself and had been contemplating how to do so with the soda tab when suddenly the heat disappeared from the crook of his neck and her tearful gaze probed his own. She looked beautiful and vulnerable, and for the first time—aside from her looks—he could see what had struck Jake so fucking hard.

"Do you think he's dead?"

She was still leaning so close, unaware of her appeal and desperate for an assurance Troy couldn't give her. He took a hold of her chin, gently swiping at a stray tear with his thumb, and captured her lips in a quick kiss.

There was a second of sheer titillating pleasure and then pain. Agony he scarcely registered the first time until her fist smashed down on his semi a second time, harder and spiteful, soda spilling as she jumped from the bench and put space between them.

He cupped his crotch with both hands, doubling over in the pew, feeling nausea kick back in his throat with a vengeance that was taking more than a couple of seconds to pass and rattled by breathing.

"Fucking bitch!" he groaned, lightly massaging his bruised cock and its accompanying friends.

When the pain passes and he was able to sit up straight again, Troy immediately met her burning gaze and sheer spitting disgust. If she didn't rely on him in part to help find her brother, he'd probably be dead.

"I'm sorry," he muttered once he was able to speak again. "I just—I thought—"

"You thought that my spilling my guts like that equated to wanting a make-out session?!"

"No, of course not," he echoed, shaking his head lightly. "I thought you could do with sex."

Alicia stilled, and the way she observed him made him feel like a bug under a microscope. Troy smiled and shrugged. She scoffed and turned away, beginning to pace the aisle, leaving him to lick his wounds.

It wasn't long before he began to drift, slowly succumbing to the inevitable pull of exhaustion again.

"You're not seriously going to sleep while he is out there, are you?!" she hissed, emphasizing her question with a kick to his booted foot. Troy drew his leg up along the back of the chair and away from her inquisition.

"What else am I supposed to do?" he asked calmly, refraining from opening his eyes.

"God I hate you," she said, her voice firm and low, no longer a stitch of sadness in her tone.

"Likewise, honey," he murmured, offering up an acerbic smirk, her footsteps adding to the mellow lure of sleep as she began to pace again, pausing just long enough to speak into the radio.

* * *

Nick woke to something tightening around his right shoulder. Nausea hit with double effort, so did the twirling pain in his gut. He grunted, straining to open his eyes, and felt a prick of needle. His body reacted instinctually, trying to scramble away, but a firm hand closed around his neck squeezing and holding while the pricking pain in his vein turned to tugging one as she pushed the syringe.

"If you will fight me, I will hurt you," she said, meeting his eyes. Behind her, weak daylight was pouring from the diner. He would guess early morning had come.

Her hand released him; she pulled the empty syringe free and untied a belt from his shoulder.

Propped on his left elbow, Nick watched her.

"You _are_ hurting me," he reasoned quietly.

"I'm making you stronger," she played back with her unwavering sick logic and stood up, taking the syringe and the belt with her.

"I don't understand," he confessed. "Or maybe you don't."

"Oh I do," she grinned from the doorway. "You will, too. Won't be too long now. Sleep."

She left; he heard her shuffling steps around the diner, then a door opened with a squeak, closed, and there was silence.

Was she gone for long? Maybe to find some food? That would take a while. It would be in his favor.

The down side was that with the way he felt, no time could help because it was getting pretty clear that his health was deteriorating. Time seemed to be killing him. Slowly or rapidly, there was no way to know.

Relieving himself in the casserole was harder this time. His stance on the knees was unsteady, and every sinew in his limbs was trembling as though he had been running from walkers all night.

He zipped his jeans and slumped on his haunches, leaning against the pipe behind him. His breath was ragged, his heart was thrashing like a spooked bird, there was sweat on his brow.

Something was seriously wrong. And who knew, he could even OD now - no way to know how many hours passed since her first injection. And who knew how she prepared them.

Trying to get his breathing under control, he inspected his cuffed wrist. His hands were slim enough, he could have a chance to slip out of the bracelet – he'd pulled it off a couple of times back in LA without thinking twice and in a rush of adrenaline and high. But here... he needed some help, something slippery, like soap. Or blood.

He read _Gerald's Game_ once, and he wasn't going to repeat that on his own hand. He needed it to work.

Dammit. If only she left the syringe or any-fucking-thing to try at the lock.

Nick heaved a torn sigh and leaned his head back against the pipe, eyes closing.

He was so damn tired.

* * *

Another thing the apocalypse and his militia runs had taught Troy over the last year was that he could sleep just about anywhere and make it count – he had to. Life depended on it.

Alicia, on the other hand, hadn't learned that technique and was sitting upright on a bench on the opposite side of the room looking like a zombie. She was still clutching the radio, her bleary eyes glued to the narrow lines of plastic that made up the receiver as though she was willing it to come alive and snap at her.

That pity was back again.

He got up slowly, stretching the kinks from his neck and shoulders, and crossed the room, easing up behind her, her reaction time abysmally sluggish as he snatched the radio from her hands. She jerked around.

"You're no good to him like this," he stated, meeting her glare dead-on.

"What would you know about it?"

"A lot, actually."

She scoffed and attempted to snatch the radio back. Troy danced out of her way.

"Troy," she snapped, hissing his name as though it were diseased. "Give it back."

He inspected the case, observing that, unlike their standby actions before, she'd practically run the radio's battery down to nothing. He'd give it another three hours or so before it died completely.

She was on her feet now, beside him, hands extended like claws to make a second attempt at removing it from his grip. He sidestepped out of her way again, dipping between the pews, turning his back on her completely, making a point of attaching it to the waistband of his pants next to his own radio.

She'd stopped chasing him, probably too tired to keep up and unwilling to play what she assumed was a game.

"You should go freshen up."

"I don't have—"

"You look like shit, Alicia, and I need you on form. I'm not going to waste daylight."

She stared at him long and hard, a fist lashing out at the wood chair barricaded between them.

"Fuck you, Troy Otto. FUCK. YOU!"

He smirked. "I thought you weren't interested."

She expelled a growl bordering on animalistic rage, stomping toward the neighboring door that led off to a single lobby restroom. It wasn't pristine but it had water – running water. He gave it a minute and then trailed after her to relieve himself, as well.


	20. Chapter 20

**STRANGER DANGER - PART** **2**

His bones were starting to ache now, too. That gnawing, irritating pain settling across his body as harbingers of fever.

Was it the drug? It very well could be. Or the water…

Nick didn't want to think about. What he needed to think about was how to get out of the handcuffs. All the ways he could remember included a bobby pin or a piece of metal or anything he could pick the locks with. He had nothing like that on him. Maybe he should get his hands on any handcuffs key someplace in a police station and carry it around for such occasions. It made him nauseous even more to just think about any of it ever repeating itself, but apparently anything was possible, and ways of predicting shit were running low.

He stared down at the bracelet for a long while, listening to his irregular pulse beating in his temples, brushing his thumb absentmindedly against the metal teeth of the lock, letting his thoughts roam around freely in futile hopes of hitting something important. He made a few mental inventories of what he had on him, but no good idea came. His mind kept stumbling over the razorblade hidden in his boot, but he couldn't quite think of how it was of any use, unless he actually decided to go with Gerald's Game recipe. Which would drop him in a world of agonizing infection and no way of dealing with all the shit at once, and he had a few new problems already.

Nick took a couple of swigs of water, screwed the cap back slowly, then stopped, studying the bottle with new eyes. There was something in the depths of his jumbled mind, something that he had to find asap. He thought of the razorblade and the bottle in his hand, put them in the same image on his inner screen and looked at it, waiting. As though there would be a note coming up to tell him what to do.

There was barely enough for two gulps left in the bottle, and he unscrewed the cap and finished it. He studied the bottle, turning it in his hands, groping for that elusive idea that teased from around the corner. His fingers flexed, the plastic made crackling sounds. It was rather thin.

 _Thin_ …

Squinting, he slowly put the bottle down and pulled his left foot to him, undid the laces and fished out the blade. She didn't check – and if she did, she never thought to look under the insole. He unwrapped a piece of duct tape securing the cutting edge and took the bottle again, cutting into the middle of it after a momentary hesitation. He worked with more vigor as his anxiety started to grow. She could come back any moment.

Finally, he had an uneven, narrow strap of plastic. He forced himself to be patient and wrapped the blade back in the duct tape, hid it away where it was. Then he shifted against the pipe to benefit from the last candle's light and some daylight stretching from the doorway as he carefully placed the strap over the metal teeth and started to push the plastic into the lock. It was thicker than a tool like that should be, but he had no fucking choice in the matter. Sweating and barely breathing, his pulse galloping in his throat, Nick kept pushing, gently at first, harder later.

It wouldn't budge. One side of the strap bunched up; he used another, more careful this time. He could feel seconds floating away, flocking together into minutes, which grew to hours and days. After eternity and a day, the plastic slipped in, the tip of his thumb nail hitting the metal painfully as it jerked into the lock.

Nick gasped, unbelieving, and inspected it gingerly. It definitely seemed to be in.

Releasing a ragged breath, he pushed a bit more. Reluctantly, it went deeper. He took a few uneven breaths, bracing for possible failure. The potential threatened to devastate him after all the efforts. Alicia's panicked voice kept playing in his ears, adding to anxiety and pains developing throughout his body.

He swallowed, remembered the church, and emitted a nervous chuckle, feeling like an idiot. Ofelia's face came to mind, her eyes full of tears and hope staring up at a makeshift Mexican altar, her hands under her chin with a rosary he gave her dangling from her interlaced fingers as she prayed.

"Please," he heard himself whisper as if it was someone else. "For Alicia… Help me. Help us…"

He sucked in a breath, held it, and pulled at the bracelet gingerly.

* * *

Martha killed the engine and pushed the door open, stepping out. She looked around, took a deep breath of the morning desert air. Dry and dead. The way she liked it.

She took Nick's radio from the dashboard and clicked it on. It crackled. After a moment, the other boy's voice came through, wary: "Nick? Is that you? Nick, where are you? Nick?"

"Nick, please, tell us where you are," the girl put in. "Nick, goddammit, please, Nick, say something!"

She grinned, silent, waited a bit longer as they continued begging for any word from her prisoner. Then she made a strained sound that could a dying or a suffocating person emit, and turned off the switch.

She laughed, then slipped back in the car and started the engine.

* * *

Troy finished in the restroom before Alicia did, and was waiting outside when she emerged. She looked better, more put together but extremely irritable.

"You need all the energy you can get," he said, slipping what remained of last night's candy collection into her jeans pocket. She didn't flinch away from the invasion and nor did she reach to open and eat it.

"I want my radio."

He unclipped his walkie-talkie with more battery power and handed it over. She snatched it out of his hand without a thank you, walking ahead of him, speaking into it again as if her conversation hadn't been one sided all night. All Troy could think was that she was losing it. If Nick hadn't answered by now, and he still hadn't answered, wasn't it likely that there was no more Nick?

He shuddered at the thought, at where that would leave the two of them and how quickly this setting would fall.

"I'm going to do another walkthrough town and revisit the stores from last night."

Alicia looked up and spared him the curtsey of an acknowledging nod. "See if there's a generator anywhere."

"What for?"

She gave the device she was holding a shake and protectively hugged it to her chest like a child.

"I'll see what I can do."

"I'll look around the houses. You should check the liquor store first."

He nodded lightly, backing away from her, turning to make his way in the opposite direction he'd headed the night before and for the main street.

He hadn't gotten very far when a cry erupted in the air, a screech so loud that his blood turned cold and his insides to jelly. Troy whipped around and saw her running toward him, pale and frightened and like she'd seen a ghost.

"He answered me! He spoke!"

"What?" he asked dumbfounded. Troy hadn't heard anything. He unclipped the remaining device from his waistband, checked the power and found that the red light that had been there before was now black. It had died. He guessed he'd made a mistake in his estimation on how much time was left. "Are you sure? What did he say?"

She blanked and he could see what he assumed was a hint of irrational guilt sweep across her face. "I couldn't make it out."

"What do you mean you couldn't make it out?"

"He wasn't really using words."

Now Troy was confused. "Then what was he using? Klingon?"

Alicia scowled, shaking off the sarcasm, and then reached out to grip his shirt as if somehow the physical contact would be enough to transfer what she'd heard and make him understand it. Troy gripped her radio-holding hand, closing his fingers over her own, and brought the device to his mouth, using her finger to press the talk button. She didn't appear to mind as she didn't want to let go.

"Nick, that you, man? Nick?"

He relaxed his hand, releasing the button so that Nick could sling a return, and then attempted it again. There wasn't even a click or any indication that anyone else was on the channel but them two.

She yanked her hand free. "I know what I heard, Troy, he's hurt. He's—" she hesitated, unable to finish her thought, swallowing hard as though she might be sick. "We need to find him."

"That's the idea," he stated, taking a step back, not liking that she could be losing her mind or that he'd missed an opportunity to hear what was going on himself. Was it her lack of sleep playing with her mind or his last call?

He headed into the liquor store and gave her a look as she followed him inside. Obviously, plans had changed and she was determined as ever to check every hole she assumed he'd chosen to hide in.

But why would he be hiding at all?

"Anything?" Troy asked as she stepped into the spirits aisle.

She had white-knuckled the radio pressed against the side of her face and sought his gaze. She shook her head, confirming what he'd told her the night before and what she'd refused to believe after her spooky call. Troy headed into the back storeroom, noting that there wasn't much noise or banging around like there had been in the clothing place and that the business had been abandoned and untouched. There were a few bottles missing here and there and a lot of dirt that caked the door handles and freezers, but overall that was just a reflection of time.

* * *

Nick stared down at the open bracelet in his hand in wonder, breathless for three beats, then swallowed and let it drop on the floor with a clang.

He quickly scooped all plastic pieces and the mutilated bottle and scrambled to his feet, searching around the dark kitchen where to dump it all. He didn't need her to return and find out how he unlocked the handcuffs. If she caught him on his way out, he needed a chance to pull it again. Knowledge was power, however fucked up a world was. That never changed.

After dashing around a little on his unsteady legs and finding no secure place to conceal his trick, he dropped on his knees between the counters and squeezed the remaining bottle flat, pushing it into a thin gap between the counter and the floor. If she thought to look in there, she was the devil himself, and Nick didn't believe it.

Once every single piece of the bottle was stuffed under the counter, he visited the kitchen bathroom, quickly did his business, and tried the taps. A trickle so thin it was almost a thread. He cupped his hands under it, then rinsed his face, enjoying the cool touch to his now feverish skin.

He gingerly approached the counter and looked around the diner. It was empty, only dusty tables and chairs, some overturned, some still standing upright waiting for clients to have a snack. The huge windows displayed a reddish desert outside, an empty road and no walkers. It was both good and bad. He found nothing to use as weapons, but supposed it could be fixed outside.

The door squealed opening, and Nick froze momentarily, then pushed it further and stepped out. The air was getting hotter, dryer, but it was better than the stale dust he had to breathe all night. A huge truck was parked behind the diner at the gas station, and no one around. About a dozen dead walkers scattered around. No sign of the woman. He felt so shitty and sleepy that it started to seem like one big hallucination.

 _Maybe there was no black woman. Maybe I was dead, or too high and well on my way._

He shook the thought off and discarded the truck idea. There were no keys, and driving this big-ass thing was out of question – he could barely walk straight. His stomach was having an orgy of torment that had spread its tentacles every which way.

He smashed one of the windows in the station, picked a glass shard and lowered on his knees next to one of the bodies, more or less usable. Hesitating a moment and bracing himself, he ripped a strand of its shirt, wrapped it around his hand and took the glass. He cut into the corpse's stomach, holding his breath for as long as he could while soaking the worn denim jacket he pulled off another one in stinky soup of blood and rotting intestines. When he couldn't keep from breathing, anymore, he turned away and threw up some water and bile. When there was nothing left, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and shifted away from the mutilated body, pulling the jacket on. He smeared some blood on his face, still holding his breath until it was bearable and didn't make him dry heave.

He walked to the back of the station and away into the desert, tempted to look back but refraining. There was not much left from his ability to multitask, so he put his focus into moving one foot in front of another at a bearably good speed.

* * *

Martha made another stop a couple miles short of the town the trio had picked last night and tried the radio again.

They were still pleading with it, and she listened with her eyes closed as if it were a Mozart concert.

A bit later, she made her call and breathed into the receiver.

Their voices got panicked and begging again. She grinned, laughing silently, then drew it closer to her mouth and whispered, making sure it was hard to estimate who the voice might belong to:

"Tiger, tiger, burning bright in the forests of the night; what immortal hand or eye could frame thy fearful symmetry? When the stars threw down their spears, and water'd heaven with their tears, did He smile His work to see? Did He who made the lamb make thee?"

She switched her channel off and put the radio on the dashboard, listening to their distressed voices as she drove back.

* * *

They had checked the remaining stores as if they were running a marathon, found the body Troy had taken care of the night before and confirmed that it was, in fact, a woman. Both of them were relieved.

Alicia continued to speak into the radio, begging for another scrape, unconcerned that the noise might bring skin munchers as they combed the main street. As if to give her a reprieve from her obsession and to add proof to her earlier claim, the line crackled and a voice echoed across the line, reciting disjointed poetry.

At least that was what it sounded like.

Had they crossed channels with someone else?

"Who is this?" Alicia asked, finger fixed on the talk trigger. "Nick?"

No, it definitely wasn't Nick. Or maybe it could be? They'd been speaking so softly it had been hard to make out anything and whomever it was seemed to have disappeared.

"Hello?! HELLO?!" Alicia said, clicking the trigger on and off, on and off, barely giving anyone else on the line time to intrude. "We need help! I'm looking for my brother! Please! Hello?!"

The line was dead again.

"Can anyone hear me?!" she asked, tears in her eyes, her cheeks flushed. "Please. Anyone—I'm—"

Troy yanked the device from her hand.

"Give it up. It's just some asshole getting a kick out of your anxiety."

She'd already killed one of the walkie-talkies, and if she didn't cool it she'd do it again and leave them with no way to contact him at all. _If_ it was him, to begin with. Troy was skeptical; not because he wasn't hopeful but because he didn't trust it.

"You don't know that."

"Then why haven't they responded?"

"Maybe the lines got crossed?"

"Get real, Alicia, you've been at and on this thing all night and haven't heard a peep. Whoever is out there isn't looking to be helpful."

"You don't know that," she repeated slowly and with revitalized ire.

"I don't, but I do know is that you're killing the last means we have to contact Nick if he is still out there."

She dropped the basket and launched herself at him. She hit his arms, his face, anything that looked exposed and defenseless. He let her – maybe because he'd fucked up in reassuring her the night before and maybe because, in part, he felt he earned it for not being able to do so again – at least for a couple seconds.

He shoved her away. They were both thoroughly pissed off.

"We can't keep fighting amongst ourselves," he snapped, speaking around the end of the shirt he'd bunched together and used to dab at the cut on his lip. Her nails were short but she'd managed damage.

"Do you even care about him?"

"Of course I fucking care about him! He's my friend, my—"

Troy left the sentence unfinished, silence momentarily descending between them like a blanket. Unlike when he'd confessed to Madison that he saw Nick as a brother, as family, Troy couldn't bring himself to do that now. The consequences of that weak admission were too great.

"Then act like it!" she hissed, barely having picked up on the disruption.

"And how am I supposed to do that? By losing my fucking mind? You're doing that enough for both of us!"

Alicia's hand swung out with the purpose of hitting him again, movement he'd read the second time and prevented easily. He grabbed her wrist and twisted, enjoying her cry of pain as her back hit the wall.

"Get off me, you prick!"

"Stop hitting me. We're on the same fucking team!"

He shook her once and felt her nails bite into the flesh of his forearm.

"Let me go!" she cried.

Everything in him screamed to silence her, to punch her, to discipline her for thinking that she could talk down to him, to take her frustrations out on him as if Troy were some walking talking piñata. He let her go with a jerk, putting a quick distance between them, watching as she straightened up and tensed like a snake readying to strike or waiting on another attack. Her fists were clenched, her eyes glued to him like two steel pins.

"Don't hit me again," he stated coolly, retrieving the remaining bottle of vodka that had survived their fight.

She relaxed as he moved away, letting the wall catch her and then slowly began to trail after him again.

* * *

Fighting the multiplying discomforts and aches pulsating from everywhere around his body, Nick tried his best to not lose his sense of direction, however abysmal. Keeping the road to his right, he didn't dare come closer to it. Even if the truck didn't belong to the woman, she had to bring him to that diner by some means, aka a vehicle. Hardly she dragged him through dirt all the way from that small town. He didn't even remember its name, nor was sure he looked when they had rolled in and started cleaning their way to the church. The scariest part now, as he dragged his feet through the sand and shrubs, was that he had no clue whether he was getting closer to or farther from the said town. There was no certain way to pick, just pure hope for luck. Given how his night went, luck was something he had to pray for extra.

The sun was blazing and barely crawling across the sky where the clouds were so thin they didn't provide any reprieve at all. He could only wonder how much time had passed, but the diner had already disappeared behind a hill he had passed by.

It all brought him back to his long walks among the dead. A part of him suddenly wished to go back in time for it. There were no worries, no anxiety, no danger hovering over those he held dear. It was just him and the dead, a strange and surreal sense of tranquility befitting a former junkie. You can take the drugs out of the addict, but not anything of what they planted in him. It all stayed, like reminders akin to old pictures on the walls telling a story of a long and fruitful relationship. They never left, like old ghosts lingering in the crumbled walls of a castle. And all it took to make the pictures move again was one shot. One pill. One glass. Sometimes one smoke.

Having none of the stimulants at hand, the brain still tried to recreate the effects when it felt slipping into grey areas. The doses he had in him during the recent hours carried his mind into its space as smoothly as a sleigh ride down a snowy slope. Fever was the oil on the sleigh's skids. The desert was wavering around him like a painted veil, and he was starting to lose the idea of where the road was and where he was supposed to go.

A sound of engine yanked him from his feverish haze, and he ducked quickly behind a semi-tall cactus – more like fell in the shrubs at its base, peeking over them carefully.

Sunlight glared, reflecting from the car's windows, but it seemed to be a police cruiser. It drove in the direction of the diner and disappeared behind the hill he was walking from.

He lay down on the ground, eyes closed against the blinding light, and tried to get his heartbeat to calm down a little. It didn't. He felt more nauseous instead and couldn't stop himself from a dry heave as he was getting up like an old man of ninety. Every step was a whole new horizon of achievement, and his mental focus was beginning to trip over itself in the primitive scheme of the walking process. He lost count of how many times he was almost down in the dust, catching balance by pure luck.

The desert, cactuses and shrubs and sands stretched out endlessly like an ocean of red doom, and the hope of discovering any shelter was dissolving like a mirage.

* * *

"Shit," Martha hissed, eyeballing the empty chain and handcuffs with one open bracelet. "Shit, that little shit."

She stabbed her stick against the floor once, twice, again, then stilled, her eyes closed as she took deep breaths, in and out, in and out. After a few, she was ready for a fresh view.

A small smile started in the corners of her mouth, growing, tugging at them more persistently until she was cackling.

"Good. It's good," she cooed, walking across the diner and outside. She found one of the dead she had cleaned out before, gutted, and laughed hard. The boy was something special, after all. She registered a slight surprise. Surprise was the rarest beast to catch nowadays.

He was worth pursuing.

She smiled, pulling at the police cruiser's door, and slipped behind the wheel again, turned on the radio.

"Tiger, tiger," she murmured into it, starting the engine.

* * *

They circled the main street and every one of its stores and headed back to the church. When they reached it, Alicia braced herself against the side of the car and closed her eyes to catch her breath.

"You need to eat."

She hadn't touched the chocolate Troy had given her. She removed it from her pocket and threw it at him, still pissed at the fact that he'd commandeered the radio. It bounced off his stomach and landed on the ground.

He made a point of stepping on it, of grinding it into the dirt, and headed inside.

He collected the rest of his stuff from the night before, slipped the vodka into the bag along with the candy, soda and chips and made one last use of the restroom before heading back outside.

He tossed the bag into the backseat of the car through the already open window, being careful with the vodka as they no longer had a spare. He climbed into the driver's seat, twisted on the ignition and checked the gauge on the fuel. The red needle hit just below the E. Thankfully they had two extra cherry cans in the trunk and it wouldn't take much to navigate the residential areas.

They'd do most of it on foot, anyway.

As soon as Alicia got into the passenger seat, Troy slipped the gears into first and steadily applied pressure to the accelerator.

They drove the short distance in silence.

He slowed to a crawl, pulled over onto the side of the road outside one of the houses, and got out. Single story with a porch, meagre flowerbeds all dead, and scattered gardening tools left to rust on the only thing living – the grass – but even that was beginning to fade in edges.

"Take the car and do a slow crawl. Don't go far."

Alicia's didn't bother getting out of the car, climbing over the gear shift into the driver's seat.

"Got it," she said, speaking at last. She glanced at his waist, at the radios attached at each side, hopeful he'd give her one or at least let her hold onto the only one that worked.

He stepped to the side and reached into the back for his pipe.

"Meet me back here in fifteen and if anything is to happen – back at the church."

He saw her eyes widen, and for a moment he let himself imagine that she was concerned for his safety. An illusion that he carried with him until he reached the porch steps to the house and crept around it to make sure there was no dead loitering around. There had been a few on the road last night, bodies they'd taken care of immediately, and they were still there, but who knew how many fresh skin munchers had found their way here overnight?

He rounded the side of the house and approached the backdoor when a voice came through the radio again, a voice he was slowly beginning to become familiar with but now knew wasn't Nick's. Troy eyed the backdoor, scanning the windows to see if there was anyone there, anyone living and slowly backed away, letting his back rest against the fence to protect it. He removed the working radio and pressed the talk. "Who is this?"

"Not who you hoped it would be," Martha said. "It's all you need to know."

She steered along the road again, slower this time to watch out for the escaped pet. He couldn't be far. It was impossible in his condition. The very fact that he got away was a wonder, but she felt it was still within her capacity to fix it. She would find him before his friends ever caught a whiff of where to look.

The nonchalant response proved Troy's prior assumption right. They'd hogged the line and Alicia—in all her madness—had broadcasted and entertained whoever this woman was.

"We're looking for our friend. Don't suppose you've seen him?" he asked, remaining crouched, tapping at the talk button again. He didn't believe it possible but some internal hope coaxed him to at least try.

She'd reached out to him, anyway, why not cover every base?

"Oh I have," she cackled. "We've seen a lot of each other lately. The question is, how much do you want to see him again? There's not much time left for that wish to come true."

Troy straightened up as if he'd been slapped. She couldn't have said what he thought she said, and yet every part of his body had tensed as she laughed, while his mind reeled from the admission. What did that even mean and was it as threatening as it sounded? "Where is he? Where have you seen him? What did you do?"

She laughed.

"So many questions. So eager! But it only means you're weak. He makes you weak. You make him weak. I'll make him strong. You can be strong, too. You only need to choose to be."

Grinning, she drove on slowly, surveying the desert. She didn't imagine Nick went far from the road in the state he presumably was. He didn't look like a suicide mission in the making. He had them. And they made him weak.

That laugh, that condescending 'I know something you don't know' glee was grating the clearer it became and hit right at Troy's very core. He mentally vowed that if they were to run into one another face to face he'd choke it out of her. But first he'd beat it out of her. That wasn't the biggest problem though, it was her rambling, her statements about them being weak and making each other weak and every antidote in-between. What was he missing?

"I don't have time for your riddles, Lady, answer my fucking question: where did you see Nick?"

"Where I saw him you won't see him," she said. "You can find him when you're strong enough."

She put the radio on the dashboard and slowed down more, looking for any signs of movement in the desert.

He needed water. There wasn't much left in the bottle he had, and no more was to be found in the diner. He would have to search for more, or die. She didn't see him succumbing to death easily.

She started to smile. She knew where to look.

* * *

His eyes rolled and hard into the top of his skull, fist tightening on the radio as Troy begged the almighty in charge of this apocalypse to give him strength and patience.

The lady was out of her head.

"And where would that be?" he asked, trying to be polite, trying to keep the series of definitive curses of intolerance from the exchange.

When she didn't answer right away, he tried again in fear she'd go with radio silence.

"Hey. Lady? You still there? How, how do I get strong?"

She didn't answer, and for a time he wrestled with becoming an Alicia and begging her to tell him what she meant by 'I wouldn't find him until I got stronger'.

Did that mean there was time to find Nick? Why the games? What was she trying to achieve aside from feeding off Troy's misery – _their_ misery? Alicia's head was going to explode when he told her.

Troy stepped away from the fencing that he'd used to protect his back, glancing behind him to see if maybe someone had been watching him, and then attached it to his waistband again. He checked to make sure the other was still there, too, and hadn't fallen off. He headed toward the back of the house, and without any of his former cautiousness, delivered a hard kick to the door. It banged open. The owner—now dead—revealed herself and shuffled to him at once, drawn by the invasive sound, ravenous as ever.

There was another upstairs, probably trapped in the bedroom.

After he delivered a quick succession of blows to her head, he stepped over her still body and found the kitchen.

He opened one drawer after the next in search of knives. He slipped one steak knife into his boot as security and the rest—the larger versions that he'd actually looked for—he wrapped in a dishtowel.

Troy didn't leave the house long after and pulled the door closed behind him.

Alicia wasn't outside when he made it to the front yard again and he suspected she'd decided to circle the whole block. He could only hope that she wouldn't be too spiteful and leave him out here too long.

She arrived ten minutes later.

"You find anything?" she asked, confused as to why he'd been waiting and wasn't still looking around.

"Nothing concrete," he stated, reaching in at the passenger side window to open the back door. He deposited the knives on the chair, closed the door and got in beside her.

"What are you doing?"

"He isn't here."

"How do you know that?"

He unclipped the radios and deposited the useless one in the back.

"I got a call."

Alicia's eyes widened and a sheen of tears immediately coated them. "Nick?"

"No," he supplied. "A crazy fucking bitch. I think it's the same person who sprouted that bullshit poetry earlier. She told me that she had him, or, well, that she'd seen him – that she'd seen a lot of him. I'm assuming she means last night and that I wouldn't find him. She kept going on and on about how I wouldn't find him until I was strong enough because he makes us weak. We make each other weak. And also this… thing about now finding him where he was. She made no sense, but uh… I think he's still alive."

Alicia expelled the breath she'd been holding and immediately made a grab for the radio. Troy jerked his hand back and groaned in discomfort as she practically climbed into his lap to get it.

"She's crazy, Alicia. You might—"

She had a vice grip on his hand, teeth sinking into his thumb, twisting the device free as soon as he was forced to let it go.

"Ugh, fuck!" He gave her a hard shove.

She fell back against the door, accidentally kicking the gearstick, unapologetic and practically foaming at the mouth. Troy could see that there was no point in trying to reason with her, that when it came to her brother, his safety, she'd do just about anything she could to save him – irrational or not – she couldn't think clearly. Troy had the distinct impression that if the roles were reversed with the siblings, he'd be dealing with the same issues with Nick. Troy gave the hand she'd bit a shake, trying to alleviate the fleeting pain, astounded she hadn't drawn blood, and listened while she abused the receiver.

"Where's my brother? Where. Is. He?! HELLO?! Is anyone there? Speak to me!"

* * *

Nick slumped at a huge boulder to catch his breath, his heart thrashing and jumping. He kept the boulder between himself and the road he still tried to monitor in case the car drove by again. His head was swimming, his tongue was a dead piece of sandpaper. His body felt like there was no water left, like it was a bag of bones and sand.

He tried to assess his options. Without water, he would die. There were no rivers to be expected around here as far as he could tell. A walk to Phoenix, even if taken from the town they had picked, would be a long one – too long for him now. He had no idea where he was, anymore, and the road was the only hope to find any abandoned car that could mean some supplies and shelter.

But she was also there, somewhere on that road. Probably in that police car. The fucking irony.

 _Protect and serve, my ass._

Had she been an officer before? Somehow, he doubted it.

Nick shook his head a little, straining to focus. His thoughts scattered in every direction like ants. He wasn't even sweating any longer, and he didn't think there was much left of the time he'd spend conscious. He had to make the most of it.

He could just lie down and die. Yes, that option was always there for him, especially tempting now that every bone and joint in his body aches and whined. It wouldn't come as soon as he'd hope, but it would come, eventually. Sooner than it would a day before – he felt pretty well on his way already.

But there was Alicia. Alicia who had no mother by her side. Who had no one else but Troy who she still despised. If they went into a heated argument, and he rubbed it into her face like he did with their mother, they would kill each other. Or there would be just one.

Of course, if Nick died, it wouldn't matter. But it still did. It mattered in the _now_. And what mattered most was that Nick could do his damned best to prevent it. Not that his best was much today, but while he drew breath, he could try and move his legs.

He scrambled to his feet, steadied himself against the rock, then let go and dragged himself on. The sun was blazing in his face, turning the desert into glaring glass and flickering visions. He watched his feet, willing them to move one ahead of another, again and again, to step over rocks and not trip over shrubs and bushes.

It wasn't the brightest idea to be moving by day. In that heat, he was going to collapse sooner. He needed a shelter, and there was none. He stopped, reluctantly let himself lower to his knees and just catch his breath a little while he glanced around, squinting. He could no longer tell where the road was. It was just the Arizona sea of cacti and red sand smoldering under a neverending sun. Finding a cave here would take him forever, and he'd die before coming close.

A bout of sickness rolled up to his throat from out of nowhere, stealing his breath for a long moment as he battled the urge to dry heave again. It was way too painful, his guts couldn't take any more of it. They barely held it together as it was.

His head swam dangerously, he tasted copper on his dried out tongue.

From somewhere in another universe, he heard his name. He looked around, barely seeing anything but light and blotches; he strained and blinked, searching for better focus.

Someone slowly approached from afar.

* * *

Martha let the girl yell into the radio over and over, not responding. Just listening and smiling as she drove along the road. She was looking for a specific place. She believed it would work. She knew it in her gut, same way she knew when a student didn't do his or her homework or what to say to a concerned parent to make the best out of it for all parties. Her skills never left her. They merely transformed into something she could use now.

"Alicia?" a new voice broke through the radio crackling. "Alicia, is that you? Are you okay? Alicia! Where are you? It's me! Tell me where you are! Alicia! What happened?"

Another voice, a male one, tried to interrupt. Martha stopped and killed the engine to hear better, she held the radio to her ear, eager, listening. Like a lurking tiger, her mouth twitching in a smile.

He called the female Madison. She didn't want to stop and kept calling for Alicia.

"Alicia! Please, baby, please, say something! What happened? Are you okay? Alicia? Are you okay? Where's Nick? What happened to you? Where are you, baby? Please, let me help! Please, Alicia! ALICIA!"

Alicia never responded.

When the transmissions died out, Martha started her car again. She was intrigued. It was getting better.


	21. Chapter 21

"You're doing exactly what she wants," Troy said.

Alicia had been death-gripping the radio, repeating the same thing over and over and over, as if it would make a difference.

"I don't believe trying to appeal to this woman's conscience is the way to go about it. She can't have one. You've been at this all night—"

Alicia continued as though she hadn't heard him, speaking over and through Troy's attempts at reason, her right foot braced against the middle of his chest in a not so subtle effort to keep him on his side of the car and away from the radio. Troy hadn't bothered to remove the boot as he didn't want to freak her out any more than he already had by telling her what happened.

"If she hasn't bitten yet. She isn't going to." Troy wouldn't if it were him. Not that he would bother making a game out of what he was doing or had been doing in the past. He'd seen and bestowed his own torture since all this happened and this is precisely what this was.

How long was he supposed to let this go on? Now that Troy was aware that Nick was out there, possibly alive, it felt like they were wasting time and barely scratching the surface of this woman's agenda.

Troy placed a hand on Alicia's foot and slid his fingers just beneath the hem of her right pants leg. The air in the car changed and he could feel her consideration being ripped away from what she'd been doing to focus on him. Unlike last night when he'd kissed her and she'd reacted at once and with violence, this time she was just confused.

"Did you hear me?"

She frowned and drew her leg back, removing it from Troy's chest and as far away from his touch as possible, briefly disturbing her one-sided conversation with static air.

She wasn't crying, but she looked hella close.

All it would take was one word, and that word came in form of a voice Troy hadn't wanted nor suspected he'd hear for a very long time if he could help it. From the look on Alicia's face, nor had she.

Despite her mother's heartfelt pleading she didn't press the speak button and Troy could see a variety of emotion playing on her face. Devastation, fear, nervousness and something that looked oddly like disgust. Up until that point Troy hadn't realized that she too had a falling out with her mother. She looked pale, like she might be sick. She shot up in her seat, tossing the radio onto the dashboard as she spun around and flung open the driver's door, promptly vomiting.

That was the last reaction Troy had expected.

He darted a look down both sides of the street and the house ahead to make sure a skin muncher wasn't going to crawl up on her and bite her head off – not that she didn't partially deserve it – and reached for the radio.

He pressed talk. "That you, Madison?"

* * *

There was a pause after the other boy's request, and Martha slowed down to hear better, taking the radio closer to her ear again.

There had been a time when they enjoyed radio shows with Hank. It brought back some warm feeling, but mostly, it made her curiosity tickle. Her sharp mind picked at every word in search of what she could use. Any information counted. Words mattered. That never changed.

"Troy?" the woman named Madison responded, disbelief and anger palpable in how she spoke his name. "What happened? Where is Alicia and Nick? I need to speak to them. Are they okay? What is going on there with you? Let me help."

* * *

Her outburst wasn't what Troy expected and nor was it what he didn't. The confession time they'd shared a couple of weeks ago had come very close to ending a lot of things, more importantly, his life, if not for Nick Troy would have taken his last breath under that bridge and Madison wouldn't have thought twice about it.

She didn't actually.

Alicia sat with her hands buried in her hair, unable to bring up anything but air and weak smelling bile since she hadn't eaten in over eighteen hours. Maybe more.

Troy set the radio aside on the dash since the decision to answer had been completely useless and moved to retrieve a soda from the back. He popped the tab, took a sip and tapped it against the top of her shoulder.

"Your sugar's low."

Alicia wordlessly reached up to take it and slurped at it.

Troy helped himself to one of the five candy bars remaining and tried to ponder their next course of action.

"She hates you," Alicia said after a while, straightening up, tears freely falling from her eyes, drying on her cheeks in sleek lines that drew a path through the dirt caked on her face.

"Seems to be a Clark family privilege."

She closed her eyes and took a deeper sip of the sweet drink.

"Are you going to talk to her?"

"And tell her what? That Nick's out there somewhere being held captive by a crazy lady or possibly dead? I-I can't do that," she reasoned, voice breaking, the words near inaudible as she stared through the dash.

"I get it."

"No," she interjected, sounding forlorn and lost. "No one does. No one gets it."

In truth, Troy didn't. He had no idea what was going on with those two but if he were to wager a guess, he'd say that it was something close to disaffection or neglect. You didn't have to be a genius to know and see that Madison spent eighty percent of her time fawning over Nick despite her cries of 'my children this, my children that!'.

"Okay," Troy said and scoffed more of the chocolate, speaking around it. "So, what? You're going to ignore her and hope she goes away? You know these things have a four to six mile radius. It means she's here. Close."

It meant they all were, crazy lady too but how to find her – and him – was the issue.

"We could use her help. Any help. The more eyes we have the road looking out for him the better."

Alicia looked as if she was seriously considering it.

Troy reached for the radio and handed it to her, if anything good had come from the last few minutes it was that Madison seemed to have grounded the girl and knocked her into reality.

She took it and brought it to her mouth, letting it rest against the side of her face like a cool cloth, her eyes falling closed as she worked up the courage to speak again. And then, she did.

"I'm fine, Mom."

* * *

Martha hemmed, slightly surprised that the girl answered.

"Where are you, Alicia?" Madison jumped in. "Please, tell me, we can find you. It's gonna be okay, baby. Alicia, what happened? Where's Nick?"

Martha had to laugh. She would certainly like to know where Nick was. She had a good idea. A solid idea. But until she had her hook in him, she was wondering. And it was a nice kind of wonder, an anticipation she hadn't felt for a very long time. Emotions faded away like ads in the stores' windows – once bright and colorful, now dead and bleak. Only now, she felt something. And rode it while it carried her.

* * *

Alicia glanced over at Troy, as if now she was expecting his input. He'd already said all he could and had as much idea as she did about where to go with all of this.

"We're in Mammoth," she said and swallowed thickly. If Troy were a betting man he'd say she was very close to throwing up again. "I—I can't speak to you over the radio, but, uh… if you can, we can meet you in town. The gas station."

Troy was amazed she didn't tell her the church where they'd holed up the night before.

She released the talk button and twisted in her seat again, sitting her head out the door, her free hand going to her hair to move it out of the way of her mouth as she began to dry heave.

Troy gave her a minute while they waited on a response.

"You want me to drive?"

* * *

There was a short burst of static, then the male voice tuned in. "Alicia, it's Strand. Our batteries are down to nothing. If you mean the Mammoth east of Phoenix, it's right down our way, we'll be there soon. Don't go anywhere. Over."

Martha pushed the switch to talk and sang quietly: "My Nicky is over the ocean, my Nicky is over the sea…"

She was smiling. Ahead, she saw the place she was thinking about. She pulled to a curb and killed the engine, took her stick and stepped out of the car, Nick's radio at her cheek. "My Nicky is over the ocean, Oh bring back my Nicky to me." She laughed and emitted an exaggerated sigh. "You're not going to see him again. You are weak, Alicia. Run to your mommy and forget you had a brother. He will forget about you. He's stronger now. And you will never be."

She tossed the radio on the passenger's seat, closed the door and strolled away and up the road.

* * *

"Come with me, Nick," she said, her voice soft and luring as ever. "I'll take you home."

She was turning, walking away now. Nick wanted to call out and ask her to wait, but his voice wouldn't come. Grunting, he got up on unsteady feet and pushed on. He walked like the heaviest drunk in town, but was still getting one foot ahead of another, and saw her lead the way, sunlight playing in her hair turning it to gold.

"Come on, Nick."

There was a car parked at the shoulder of the road. A blinding glare reflected from its hood. She went for it and climbed inside. Nick wanted to stop her, fearing it might be that woman's car, but no sound came. His tongue refused to move, caked to the roof of his mouth. He mutely approached the car, braced his hands against its roof and jerked them back, hissing. Like a frying pan on a stove. He peeked in, saw nothing moving, and yanked at the door.

Wheezing, a mummified face snapped its teeth at him from the passenger's. For a moment, Nick thought it was Gloria. The dead was strapped to the seat, reaching its dry hands at him, clawing at air in front of his face. There was nothing useful around the teeth-snapping mummy, no bottles, no weapons. No gas in the tank, either. The keys dangled uselessly from the ignition. Whoever was driving that car and its unlucky passenger, was gone from the scene. He reached a hand to unlock the trunk, but something moved in his peripheral vision. He jerked back from the car and stilled, listening.

There was something in the distance. Maybe an engine. He knew he could be wrong, but the cold trickle of terror streamed through his spine. Nick dashed back into the bushes off the road, tripping and crawling and rolling behind the best cover he could find right away. He stilled there, breathing in sand, shivering as his heart was about to bust from overworking.

"Come out, Nick!" a voice called from the road. He couldn't see through the shrubs, but he recognized it.

She'd found him.

"I know where your sister is," the woman called, strolling languidly with her stick measuring the way like she were on a pilgrimage. "I can go get her instead. Or I can make you stronger. You can choose, but choose now. Your choice is short, but eternal." She laughed. "I'm turning back now, or you come out. I know where you are, Nick. You can't run away from me. Not now. Not anymore."

Something was squeezing Nick's head from the sides. Two invisible hands pressing on it, blood flushing in his ears. He barely felt getting up. It was like watching your car tumble while you're behind the wheel and out of control. The world behind the windshield turns and twirls, and you just sit there until the light goes out.

Gloria stood beside the car, smiling. Her face was fresh, clean, no dark circles under her eyes, no dirt on her summer dress, her hair clean and brushed. She smiled wider, holding out her arms to hug him.

Nick shuffled to her until the scenery began to wobble, and he felt the ground shift beneath him. There was no pain as he hit the asphalt. Just confusion and not a solid thought in his head.

Gloria hovered over him, smiling. Then her face turned black, her teeth white as she cackled.

"I got you, Nick. I got you. You did good. Really good."

The image blurred and drifted off into the dark that swallowed him.

* * *

Alicia sat up and shook her head ferociously, the both of them absorbed and listening to the woman sing her appalling song and ramble. Troy gave her the 'I told you so' look which she disregarded.

"Wait! Please, wait! Please! Where is he? Tell me! PLEASE TELL ME!" Alicia yelled into the receiver.

The crazy lady had left the building and Alicia had crumbled. She began to cry. Hard. An exact imitation of what had happened the night before, only this time Troy knew better than to try and comfort her.

He climbed out of the passenger side and walked over the driver's.

"Scooch," he commanded, voice low and civil. She looked up at him, swiping at her eyes, trying to dry away what he'd already seen and knew he would continue to see as long as her brother was gone. Troy felt it, too, felt that loss and fear, but his body refused to respond in the same fashion. With the same weakness. He'd barely cried for his father and Jake and felt like he didn't have that ability anymore, not since he'd lost his mother—not since before even then. He could hardly remember when last he'd done it.

Alicia stared up at him and then eased out of the front seat, pushing him back a step as she got out, slowly walking around the other side of the car, moving as if she were a convict on death row.

As soon as she settled, Troy got in beside her and reached into the back again, removing another chocolate from the back, graciously extending it toward her this time.

"If you're going to be dealing with Madison, you might want to get a little more energy."

He leaned to the side, picked up the cool drink she'd deposited outside next to her miniscule vomit spot and held it out to her as well. She accepted both.

He pulled the door closed, waiting on her to do the same and slowly guided the car in direction of the center of town again, at the gas station where the male voice had said they would be waiting.

* * *

"Are you there, Alicia?" Martha asked into the radio, pulling the car door closed, and glanced in the rearview mirror at Nick – he was out cold on the backseat of her police cruiser.

She started the engine and pulled from the curb.

Troy hadn't reached the end of the road when the crazy lady clocked in again. Alicia dove for the radio, scarcely hesitating as she pressed the talk button. "I'm here, I'm here!"

Troy stopped the car and tapped at her shoulder to grab a stitch of her focus, mouthing, "Tell her you can be stronger."

She frowned as she attempted to read his lips, frustration and doubt clear on her face. "I want to be stronger."

Martha burst out laughing. She pressed on the accelerator, speeding up, shot a glance at Nick again. He wasn't stirring, but she knew he still had time.

"You sound like you have a potential, honey," she responded to the girl on the other side of the line. "Do you? Can you be stronger for your brother? Or is it your mother you want to run to and be weak until this world takes you out? Which one will it be?"

"I can, I can be stronger for him," she insisted without hesitation, playing along with the woman's charade without even knowing what she was actually hinting at. "I—I'll do anything."

Martha considered it, smiling to herself. She steered off the road and parked in front of the diner. Killed the engine.

"What does it mean to be strong, Alicia?" she asked the radio. "Tell me what it means, and maybe you can be with your brother if you can be as strong as him."

Color drained from Alicia's face, her eyes widening as if to say 'you got me into this, help me'. "What do I say?"

Troy inhaled and scratched the side of his head, replaying everything she'd said over the course of the last hour. There had to be some semblance of expectation in there somewhere, something we could use.

"Troy," Alicia murmured insistently. "Troy, please."

This was the first time she'd directed any of that desperation at him as a person and for the first time it was beginning to feel as though they were in this together and not just Troy trying to talk at her.

"She kept saying that we're making each other weak, that we've made each other weak. Nick, you, me. I can't see how she can mean that for anything other than the fact that we're moving around together. Maybe she means to meet you alone?"

Alicia sucked in a breath and mulled it over.

"Are you sure?"

"No," Troy answered honestly, shrugging. "I could be entirely wrong."

She thought of what else she'd said, the last stitch of information she'd offered about Nick. He'd been weak in the past but there were times, times when clarity set in, that he was so strong she'd envied him.

"Strong is fighting, strong is being able to push on despite any adversary and trusting that you're making the right decision for yourself," she supplied, pressing on the talk trigger, releasing it and a breath she'd used to say all that in one.

* * *

The pause the girl took was rather long, Martha estimated. She had time to park, pull Nick out of the cruiser, open the back of the truck and get a bottle of water from one of the boxes piled inside.

She was unscrewing the bottle when Alicia came back with her answer.

Martha left the bottle next to a still unconscious Nick, and attended the radio.

"That's a good one, Alicia," she approved. "Make a choice, then. Be strong for your brother, or be weak with your mother. If you need your mother's help, you're weak. Choose, child. We shall speak later. I'll see if Nick will speak to you. But he only will if you're strong enough, Alicia."

She put the radio down and kneeled by Nick's side, pouring some water over his face, sweeping it cleaner from dried blood he had put on it. The denim jacket he had soaked in the dead's blood she had left on the road. He didn't need it for where they were going.

A pleasant coolness spilled over Nick's face, coaxing him back up to the surface. He could see the white flickering sky through the veil of water as he swam up. A dark spot to the side – Abigail. Just another few feet and he could breathe in some air and see his mother on the yacht's deck watching the water like a hawk. Alicia would be behind her, arms folded, like the little mother's soldier she was.

Nick gasped, his eyes snapping open, but there was no Alicia or Abigail rocking on meek waves.

The black woman smiled at him, so deceptively tender he felt a bit sick in his soul. His body was pretty sick to begin with.

"We have places to be," she said, pulling Nick into a sitting position by his jacket. He leaned against the side of the car. It was indeed the police one.

She laughed, seeing Nick's hungry stare at the bottle, and pulled it away, screwing the cap on. She moved out of his sight, then returned with a small gin flask. She uncapped it and put it to his lips.

"Drink this."

Nick did. It stung his mouth and lips, it made him cough and gasp for air. His body needed water so desperately it rejected anything but. She managed to pour a third of the bottle in him. When Nick was breathless and panting, she let him be for a few moments, then demanded he get up. She helped him into a huge truck. He lay down among piles of boxes, feeling nauseous and shivering from cold and heat exchanging places every other second. His awareness balanced on a string, then tripped and fell back into the pit.

* * *

Troy could see that Alicia wanted to ask her what her name was but before she could the woman was gone and the line dead. He wondered if her mother had heard all of that. He suspected not. If she did Madison would have hijacked the conversation with threats and worsened the situation even more than it already was. She had that knack, skill that Troy hadn't suspected until he began hanging out with Nick– until he shared his past – and she stabbed him in the back. She played Troy then and given half the chance she'd do it again. Their last encounter had proved that. He couldn't trust her and never would again.

"Alicia?"

She was silent next to him, thinking, wheels turning as she tried to gauge what to do and whether or not she should risk meeting up with her mother. Troy got it. If they did, how would she know?

Madison.

Alicia would tell her to stay back, assure her that she had things under control and Madison would guarantee her that she understood or convince her that she could do better, blow them and him out of the water.

Or just Troy. He was fodder in Madison's eyes.

"We should—" she began, her voice drifting off as she left the sentence unfinished, looking to Troy again with that imploring gaze that sought his advice or the ability to tell her what they should do. Her continued need was so new to him that he had to pause, to make sure he was actually seeing what he was seeing and that this wasn't some hazy high from a lack of nutrition.

"I'm scared. I'm scared for him," she admitted, unable to keep the tears or break from her tone.

"So am I," Troy added, recognizing that it was true.

"What if I make the wrong choice? What if she doesn't call? What if I go to my mother and he dies? What if I don't go and he dies? What if he's dead already?"

Troy tapped a finger against the key in the ignition, temporarily unable to meet her gaze. It wasn't often since the world had changed that he'd found himself feeling scared and helpless. He'd only experienced it twice and both those times Nick had been the center. Troy appreciated the long lost sentiment the first time, but now, now he loathed it and felt completely incapable of dealing with it. He couldn't control when it came up, and like in those times things got out of hand, it consumed him and slowed things down to an agonizing pace.

"What does your head say?"

Troy knew what her heart screeched, he'd heard it all night and possessed a clear picture of their past. She looked at him for a long moment, brows furrowed, her features softening in a way he'd never seen directed at him before. Troy couldn't even begin to speculate what she was thinking.

"We should find power. We should charge the radios."

"Where?"

Alicia swayed her gaze to the road ahead and then to the left, the houses we'd intended to check before.

"Here."

Troy nodded and eased the car into reverse, carrying them back to the house he'd broken in before. He hadn't seen a generator or anything inside that could be labelled as such but then again, he hadn't looked properly and been single-minded in his resolve.

He turned off the engine and climbed out, guiding Alicia around the back of the house once she'd gathered their few possessions and headed inside.

* * *

While Nick was out once again, Martha collected more bottles with clean water, a few bottles of beer and some snacks from the boxes and stuffed them in the cruiser's truck. She took the chains and the handcuffs from the kitchen, dumped them at the cruiser, then checked on Nick.

He didn't wake up as she dragged him out and back to her car, but she didn't need him to.

Once he was secure in the back of the cruiser, his hands cuffed together behind him, his legs chained together and with the handcuffs akin to a hogtie, she settled behind the wheel and pulled out.

The diner disappeared behind in the dust. She hummed a song for a while, then picked the radio and tried it.

"Have you picked yet, Alicia? Be weak under your mother's skirt or be strong with Nick? What is it going to be?"

* * *

Troy stepped into the house and flipped a switch on the first light he found. It didn't come on.

"I'll check the breaker. Keep an eye. Grams wasn't alone." He gestured to the corpse he'd bludgeoned earlier, setting their bags down on the couch before heading in search of the basement.

He found it with no problem.

He pushed open the door, rapping the end of his pipe against the wall, listening for any response from below, any sound that there was dead down there and slowly descended, feeling his way in the dark with one hand.

Alicia stared at the woman at her feet and moved to cover her face with the blanket she'd found strewn across the back of the settee. She wasn't typically sentimental as the last few months has desensitized her to certain pictures but given the call she was waiting for it felt appropriate and natural to sympathize with what she must have gone through before succumbing to the final walk.

She said a prayer over the woman, hopeful that she was at peace – more harmony than could be found in the living at present – and straightened, jerking as if struck when the familiar woman's voice broke through the silence. She hadn't expected her to call so soon. She answered immediately.

"I want to be strong like Nick."

Martha laughed. "Good choice. Then I want you to do something for that. Are you ready for some travel? Just you and that other young man, Troy. Or just you alone – I don't mind."

Alicia pushed away from the chair and moved in search of her companion.

"Troy!" she called in a panic, temporarily releasing the talk button and then she was back to the woman with a more or less controlled question. "Where do I need to go?"

Troy scrambled back upstairs and appeared at the top of the landing out of breath. He'd taken a slipping dive twice and nearly sprained his ankle on stair in need of some serious TLC.

The question was in his eyes.

"She wants us to go somewhere. Maybe to Nick."

Troy nodded and shuffled past Alicia to collect their belongings.

"Just know this, girl," Martha specified, "your boyfriend Troy is the only one you can take with you. Is that understood?"

Alicia didn't even grimace at the notion of Troy being called her boyfriend, in fact, the impasse seemed not to bother her as he was sure it would have in a casual setting that didn't depend on Nick's life.

"Understood," she supplied. "You know so much about me. About us. What's your name?"

Troy walked out ahead of her and guided her back to the car.

"That doesn't matter, honey. What does is that you listen while I tell you what to do. I hope you have a nice car with enough gas, because if you travel on foot, your brother might run out of time.

"Take the Interstate 10, and follow it all the way to Texas. As soon as you're there, Nick and I shall expect your call to tell you what to do next. Have a nice trip."

She put the radio on the dashboard and hummed a tune.

* * *

Troy tossed the stuff through the open back window, popped the lever on the trunk and made quick work of filling the car with fuel from one of the two jerry cans they'd thrown together the night before.

Alicia waited in the passenger seat and gestured for him to hurry.

Texas was a fifteen-hour drive away and that was only if they found place to stop and fill up or didn't have a tire blowout on the way. Troy pitched the empty can into the back of the trunk and slammed it shut.

"Can I speak to him? Can I speak to Nick?" Alicia asked as they pulled away from the side of the road, leaving everything behind them aware that the radio wouldn't last that long and that they'd have to turn it off for the journey and that the disconnection was going to eat at what remained of her soul.

Her mother wasn't even in the picture anymore.

"You didn't expect her to answer, did you?"

Alicia shrugged and set the device down on the dashboard.

"You should turn it off completely."

"What if she calls us back?"

"She doesn't have a bleeding heart. She won't."

Alicia stared at the radio, mentally beckoning the woman to contradict Troy.

"We're not going to be able to stop and find a place to charge it. Besides, she was specific, she said we were to call her when we get there and we can only do that if we have the power to do so."

"What if this is all a ploy? What if she is sending us there as a distraction?"

"That would be idiotic on her part, wouldn't it? She's got the upper hand."

"No, but maybe we were close to wherever she's keeping him and she's trying to throw us off her scent. You said these things only have a certain mileage they can reach. We know she's in the area. What could she possibly want from us, from Nick, in Texas?"

Troy didn't know the answer to that and nor could he wager a guess.

"So, what, you want to go back and check every house on the block? She also said we don't have much time."

Which was why, while he waited for her answer, Troy didn't slow down or try to stop. Alicia scrubbed her eyes furiously. A selfish part of Troy was grateful that the crazy lady hadn't given him the proposition. He wouldn't know what to do either and the fact that Alicia kept looking at him as if he did was beginning to seep in like molasses. He wanted Nick back as badly as she did but he didn't want a poor decision and the loss of his life—if he were to make the wrong one—to sit on his conscience and choke him. It was hard enough with Jake locked in there.

"I don't know what to do," Alicia mumbled from beneath her hands.

"We drive," Troy said, one hand remaining on the steering wheel while the other moved to turn off the radio. She looked up, her hands sweeping down her face, pausing beneath her chin as if to hold it up.

"Okay," she agreed after a brief moment of wayward contemplation.

Conversation died and twenty minutes into the drive Alicia fell asleep. Now that she was disconnected from the only thing that had been keeping her going all night and with no means to resolve it, her brain had finally shut down. Troy was thankful for that as he didn't want to suggest something that should have been a natural decision. If they were going to do this drive, she was going to have to take over at some point and get them there safely—and in one piece—she was going to have to be lucid.

Not for Troy but for Nick.

* * *

Next time Nick woke up, his limbs were asleep, his wrists hurt from the bracelets – this time they were locked behind his back. The chain from his bound ankles snaked to the handcuffs. He was in the backseat of a car, and through a dirty glass striped with metal bars, he saw the mane of dreadlocks and her bulky shoulder. She was humming some merry tune as she drove.

That police car. It was hers, after all.

Nick wasn't hurting as much in his gut, anymore, but the feverish feeling lingered. His bones still ached, adding to the pain symphony he could barely withstand. He tried to shift, but it didn't do any good. He was lightheaded and nauseous, every muscle and bone hurt, and he was back with his lovely crazy companion.

Life's getting better, Nick thought sardonically.

He didn't want to alert her to him being awake, so he tried his best to shift to a more comfortable position and closed his eyes again. The car's rocking didn't help the nausea, but somewhere along the way of her humming with the engine running, Nick managed to drift off again.

It was a nice patch of time blessed with no visions.

When he came to, she was hovering over him, her dreadlocks touching his chest. She pulled back and out of the backseat; Nick glimpsed a syringe. His arm was so numb he didn't feel the injection.

A flash of ire burst in him, but he had to hold it back, bite on it and hold until he could open his mouth without obscenities pouring out.

"Where are we going?"

"Possibly to see your sister," she informed with a cheerful smile, bent to see Nick through the open door. "Wouldn't you like that, Nick?"

A much thicker needle, one of icy terror, pierced his solar plexus. He couldn't allow that. He couldn't help her get her hands on Alicia. Nor could he say anything provoking. It was so hard to think straight he almost groaned in frustration.

She studied him. "Do you like it better with me?" Laughing.

Nick chuckled. "Oh, I think I'm having a Stockholm syndrome running wild here."

She laughed, hard and cheerful. There was none of the cackling he'd heard so much of before. At this moment, as he looked at her, he saw who she used to be. He wanted to get to know that someone and possibly coax her forth.

"You're a sweet-talker, Nick. But the chain stays."

She produced the gin flask again and gave him more. In the end, she showed mercy and allowed a gulp of water to wash it down.

When she started driving again, Nick was fading back into the mist of high.

* * *

Two and a half hours into the drive Troy stopped, killed a straggler who'd weaved too close for his liking as he got out and used the last jerry can.

Alicia didn't wake.

They drove another three hours and stopped outside a gas station just off the highway. It was the fourth. It would have been so easy to stop at every one, to check for supplies, but given the time constraint he wasn't willing to risk it and didn't think she'd appreciate that either. Troy knew wherever Nick was he didn't.

Alicia woke when Troy fixed the machine's hose to the side of the car and began to fill it.

"Where are we?"

"Tuson. Vail."

"You let me sleep."

"You needed it."

"How long have I been out?"

"Give or take five hours. How'd you sleep?"

She scrubbed the heel of her hand against her bloodshot eyes. "Like shit."

She popped the handle on the passenger door and eased out. Troy reached in through the side of the open window, unfurled the cloth he'd wrapped around the knives in Mammoth and grabbed two. He handed her one—which she took—and leaving the machine to fill the car, headed inside. He grabbed a basket that had been tipped at the door as he'd done in the liquor store. It was easier. If the dead happened upon you, at least you had more chance of a recovery than losing all your supplies. Unfortunately, it didn't look as if there was much left for them. The place had been just about picked clean.

"Looks like we got here too late. Even the disinfectants are gone," Alicia commented.

"You sure they even sell that here?" Troy asked, smiling slightly.

"Does it matter?"

Troy walked over to the fridges, opened the glass doors and pushed aside the shelves that held of the drinks in the past so that he could get into the back where they stored the extra drinks for stock. That, too, had been scrubbed to the bare minimum. He found three grimy bottles of cranberry sparkling water that had escaped the incursion and hidden itself beneath a broken cardboard. He dusted them off and dumped them into the basket. When he stepped out, Alicia was nowhere in sight and had wandered into the depth of the store, probably in search of a restroom she could make use of. Troy grabbed a couple magazines and the last of the hard candies that had been left at the bottom of one of the dispensers on the counter and set them beside the water.

"Alicia?" he called softly, moving toward the back of the store.

"In here. It's clear."

That she knew of anyway. Troy walked into the back and pushed open the office door. She was rummaging around in the drawers of the desk, papers strewn all about, and a telephone hanging from the wall off the hook.

"What are you looking for?

"A key. I uh… I need to—"

"Pee," Troy finished, smirking as her face colored.

He put the basket down on the floor and walked further down the small narrow hallway. There was one door that branched off to the outside and another with the untidily scrawled restroom on it. He knocked. No sound came. He raised a booted foot and delivered a hard kick to the bottom of the door. It opened with ease, only it wasn't empty; inside, seated on the closed lid of the toilet was a man in overalls, his brains decorating the back wall. Alicia had slipped out of the office and stood beside Troy, her hand immediately going to her shirt to pull it up and over her nose to block out the overpowering stench.

Troy didn't believe that was a smell you could ever get used to.

"Well," he said as he backed away, retrieving the basket. "I'll meet you outside."

Alicia looked at him and then at the corpse on the toilet, considering, trying to gauge how badly she needed to use it and found that her body absolutely refused to let it go, the pressure becoming even worse.

Troy exited the store with the basket and dropped it into the backseat on top of their weapons.

By the time Alicia emerged, he'd filled the car and the two jerry cans and was waiting for her from inside the driver's seat.

"How'd it go?" Troy asked, amused.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You sure? We've got eleven hours to kill."

Alicia raised her right hand and flipped him the bird. He grinned and turned on the ignition, quickly guiding them back onto the highway and for their next destination.

* * *

The car wasn't moving when Nick woke up. Everything was rocking on invisible waves beneath and around him, but the engine was dead. No one was in the driver's seat.

Half his body was numb, the other hurting. He would kill for a gulp of water, but the idea of eating something made his stomach churn. He recognized the high still lingering – it must have been just around two hours most of sleep. It probably counted, but didn't quite feel it. He felt like a rusty mechanism with every bolt unscrewed loose. The gin she had been giving him with no food to back it up was contributing greatly. Nick wished he knew her reasons, but maybe – and that was a quite scary idea – there were none.

He thought of trying to sit up and have a look through the windows, but found that moving with your limbs chained and numb was not an easy task for a bag of unscrewed bolts. It seemed like the sun had set, and the sky was turning purple on its way for its nightgown.

We're going to see your sister. Wouldn't you like that, Nick?

Fear raked its bony fingers through his nerves as her words echoed in his head. It made him wonder what that would mean for Alicia and whether there was any way to prevent it. Not that thinking about it and getting more scared was going to help anything. It wasn't going to get him out of the chains once again, and he needed that chance. Especially if the night was coming. A desert at night was a much better place to wander than the same setting under a blazing sun.

But he had to earn his way out of this police car. The doors wouldn't open for him, unless his captor did it. Nick sighed and kicked the door, then again. She emerged behind the window like a bad dream. But the door opened.

"You calling?"

"Nature's calling. Been a while."

"I'm afraid there's no casserole to offer you, Nick."

"Oh, come on. I don't think I can do anything stupid when I can barely stand and my bladder's busting. Please."

She considered, then reached in to him, fumbling with the chains. She freed his legs and pulled him out by the lapel of his jacket. They were parked off the road, the car neatly placed behind a bush so it was hard to spot it at night from the highway. There was a bonfire a dozen yards away in the shrubs.

She unlocked one bracelet, then stood back a step, not intending to leave him to his chore. When Nick looked at her expectantly, she clicked her tongue.

"Not happening. I bet you know why."

Nick chuckled and unzipped his pants. He needed to go so bad he no longer cared if anyone watched. It even hurt a little when he finished. As he zipped his fly, the temptation to dart off was burning him like hellfire. The rational part of him knew very well he wouldn't go far. She didn't seem all that athletic, but Nick's legs were trembling, and he felt like shit, both high and hungover. There was no food in him to carry him far away from her to have his freedom back. And an attempt would probably rob him of his next decent way of relieving himself.

Hating himself, her and everything, Nick obediently let her cuff his hands behind his back again. When she picked up the chains, he had to try: "Please, there's no need for that. I can't get out of the car, anyway."

"We'll see," she said, dumping the chains on the shotgun seat, then pushed him into the back and closed the door.

Nick watched her stroll toward the fire, then lowered back on the seat, staring at the ceiling. It felt more comfortable with his legs free, but the trap was still locked. More so than Nick liked to admit.

* * *

It had been three hours since Troy filled up the last time and they'd already decided that they wouldn't be stopping, that they'd drive through the night and by morning they'd be in Texas.

All they didn't know was if she'd be there to greet them.

"Want me to drive?" Alicia asked from where she sat reclined in the passenger seat, eyes closed but unable to fall asleep again. Troy couldn't tell if that had to do with the dead guy she had to pee around or her brother.

"Soon."

The car's engine had begun to run hot—not entirely as of yet—but it was there, tempting the gauge, and although Troy wanted to push it, he'd tried to temper the pace to keep it from overheating. It wouldn't help them or Nick if the engine blew out and they were forced to find another vehicle. There was nothing on this highway apart from darkness, more darkness, the dead and a big nothing, nothing Troy could see past the headlights.

That would put a severe crank in their schedule – Troy's schedule.

He'd been hopeful they'd pass something with a means for getting water for the car when a distinctive pop shattered the silence and started listing the car. Troy removed his foot from the gas, allowing it to slow naturally, and kept a hold of the wheel as he guided it to the edge of the road, refraining from going off it completely as he might have when the world was full of traffic.

"What was that?" Alicia asked, using her elbows to push herself into an upright position.

"We blew a tire."

At least, that's all Troy hoped it was.

He twisted off the ignition, reached up to flip on the overhead light inside the car and cast a look around before getting out.

"Don't suppose you found a torch while you were looting that office?"

"Sorry," Alicia said, grabbing at the lever beside her chair to pull it back into position, her hands moving beneath the seat as if she'd only now thought to double check. Troy crouched beside the back wheel on his side, letting his hands run along the rubber, index probing to check the pressure and seeking the weakness. He later found the problem on the passenger side but couldn't tell what had caused it.

He straightened up, moved to the back and patted at the trunk.

"Open her up."

Alicia stretched over the seats to where she knew or speculated the tab was and tugged it. Once unlocked, Troy flipped the lid up the rest of the way, removed the two jerry cans and anything else that was in his way as he searched for the flaps that would remove the fake bottom. He was in the middle of it when a collective groan drew his attention from behind and another from in front of him somewhere.

"Alicia, I'm not alone out here."

She stopped her hunt and got out of the car, knife in hand, effortlessly picking up on the dead's call. They couldn't see them yet or make out their numbers but it was apparent that the noise from the tire bursting had set some trouble in motion. Appreciatively, Alicia wasn't stupid enough to try and feel her way into trouble, choosing to hoover at Troy's side while he removed the platform. There was a spare tire, a jack and its accompanying tire iron. Whoever had owned the car before them, thankfully hadn't been in a position that forced them to use it. As far as Troy could tell, the tire was in good condition. He freed up the jack and went to the side of the car, using his hands to gauge where it needed to be on the tar in order to lift the car.

It wasn't easy.

He would literally kill for light, more light, more than the dim orangey shadow while illuminating the inside of the car helpfully, only seemed to add to the shadows outside.

"You ever done this before?"

"As a born and bred farm boy, a popped tire was bi-weekly prerequisite."

"Right. Stupid question."

It wasn't that stupid, Troy had never done it blind. Hell, if he thought they had an option, with the impending groans looming so close he'd have suggested they abandon ship and start walking.

"Pray I don't lose the nuts."

"You mean you haven't lost yours already?" she retorted.

"Ha-ha," Troy deadpanned, cursing the groan the steel gave as it hoisted off the ground. Once secured in place, he started on the lug nuts, putting all his strength into it and finding it to be quite easy.

Alicia, on the other hand, didn't have it as easy as the dead had made their slow trek and appeared, practically on top of them, showering them with a spray of blood as she hammered away at his or her soft head. No sooner she'd gotten the first down, did a second and third arrive. Troy stopped mid-way to help but they could still hear more out there in the near distance.

"How much longer?" Alicia asked, grabbing the bodies, moving them out of the way of where Troy was working and out of the way of the car for when they finally got back on the road.

"If we're lucky ten more minutes."

He had again busied himself with the last nut when a hand shot out and cupped his face, smearing something across it that he knew wasn't water and inadvertently got on his tongue.

"God!" Troy cursed disgusted, spitting, using his forearm that wasn't covered in grease to try and wipe the blood from his eyes. "What is it with you and your brother trying to make me look a chainsaw massacre victim?"

"You don't like the fresh scent of death?" she asked, disappearing and returning to smear even more onto Troy's back and arms.

"Not particularly," he grunted unnecessarily, setting aside the tire iron, slipping the last lug into his pocket along with the rest before removing the wheel. "Especially not in my mouth."

"Whoops," she muttered, anything but remorseful. Troy could almost see her smile.

He stood, picked up the tire and launched it off into the darkness away from the road. There was no way they were going to be able to get it fixed and it would only take up space. He removed the new wheel from the trunk and struggled to ease the steel through the holes, becoming increasingly frustrated every time it slipped.

"Help me, hold this," Troy commanded, blindly reaching for Alicia's wrist in the dark, pulling her down to her knees beside him. She didn't complain, and the process swept by quicker.

While Troy removed the lugs from his pocket and tightened them in place again, she stood, keeping guard despite the thick disguise she'd put on their faces, alert as one after the other the dead crawled past—a herd—lured now only by the sound of Troy's continued working. When a stray got to close and she thought they may fall on top of them, she killed them, driving the blade in through their chins as if to mercifully euthanize them, being careful not to draw any more attention to herself than was necessary.

Troy understood that fear.

When he was finished and sure the wheel wasn't going to fly off while they drove, he reset the jack, collected their tools and jerry cans and quietly put them into the trunk.

With the dead all around them, they didn't speak.

Once inside the safety of the car, Troy turned off the overhead light, instructed Alicia to roll up the windows where the dead could reach in to snag them and started the engine, quickly pulling away. Thankfully the car shot like a dream, snagging a couple knees of the dead until they were out of the small sea and back in the clear and on their way.

* * *

Oddly, the woman didn't seem to need any rest or sleep. Whenever Nick dozed off and came to, she was either driving or making short stops for supplies or toilet runs. He wondered what for a supernatural drive had her going for over a day with no slumber breaks. Had she found some energetics stash or maybe gave herself a shot or two from the baggie? He doubted the latter, but her stamina gave Nick an eerie vibe, nonetheless.

She barely spent an hour at the fire. She returned before Nick could nod off again, and they were back on the road. She was humming to herself again, steering confidently. She might have been on this road before. She certainly knew where she was going.

They made one more stop before the dawn. She opened Nick's door, unlocked a bracelet and ordered him to take off his jacket. He did, and she cuffed him back before locking the door. She was somewhere in the dark behind the car, there were some faint sounds that could come from a walker. Nick couldn't make out anything through the dusty windows aside from an impression that it was a small town around them, and eventually lay down again. Shivers were back, withdrawal was settling in. It seemed to be coming sooner now, as if he had been continuously using for years. He was back where he started three years ago, and it almost did his brain in with frustration. She nulled all the torment Nick went through when the world fell. He'd have to start over – IF he was going to get a chance like that at all – and he wasn't looking forward to any of it.

Deep down, it made Nick want to just die. Dying was easy. He wanted easy. For fucking once.

He didn't notice his consciousness slipping away, but when he came to, the sky was the lightest of blue with shades of pink. Right after the sun's 'I'll be right out'. The first rays were already touching the rocky valleys on either side of the road. It was no longer an Interstate – more like a small highway. There was nothing but the desert around.

She brought Nick to a small house sitting in the middle of nowhere. A walker or two were scratching at the closed door upstairs, but she wasn't bothered. She set Nick on a chair in the living room, gave him more gin, a little bit of water, and put a ready syringe on the coffee table.

"Now we wait," she announced, sprawling on the couch, her arms spreading along the back of it as if she was about to watch her favorite soap opera after dinner. "Your sister must be close."

"And then what?"

"All in its time, Nick." She glanced around the room and lingered on a painting behind him. A ship in a stormy sea. Her face turned dreamy for a moment.

"What did you do, you know, before… all this?"

She smiled wider, the dreamy look remained and deepened subtly. "I was a teacher."

It explained things. The sharp attention and unmistakable interpretation that came from experience of reading people on the daily.

"Why drug me?" Nick asked. Her eyes darted to him from the ship battling the ocean on the painting, and whatever peaceful thought she was having was replaced with her habitual ironic smile.

"Because you wanted it. I gave you what you wanted to make you stronger."

"We both know how much of a bullshit this is. I didn't keep it for myself. In a world like this, it's as useful a currency as any. We'd met people still dealing in it, and it was a nice coin to keep around for such."

She raised her eyebrows faking surprise. "I'm sure you convinced yourself of that, but your eyes, Nick, the way you looked at it said otherwise. I've seen my share, I know it all. I also know you need to hit the rock bottom to rise back up, Nick. I'm sure you know it, too. I can see you do. You were strong. But now you can become much more."

Nick mulled it over. "So what you're saying is, you're trying to help."

Her smile slipped off so quickly Nick didn't even catch that instant. She leaned forward slowly, her elbows coming to rest on her knees. "I don't. Help. I. Don't. Help."

He studied her, heart hammering against his ribs. He could see he was onto something, but a small part of his mind, ever alarmed and paranoid, screamed terror because it was sure he wouldn't like what he might have found. He swallowed with effort – there was no spit left, he was drying out like a fucking mummy – and went against his cornered-animal instinct. "You make people stronger. You said it yourself."

She made no reply, just watched him with that thunderstorm cloud of an expression on her face.

"Making people stronger means doing them a favor," Nick continued, as his pulse accelerated even more, making it hard to breathe. It was like the biggest ominous hunch ever, and he was consciously walking over it toward his doom. But he couldn't stop himself. He didn't think he really wanted to. It was akin to a stupid rush you get from your first glorious high. You know you can't fly but stopping yourself from trying is as impossible as turning back time after you jump. "Doing them a favor means helping them. You're hel—"

She was like a striking cobra; Nick never saw it coming. It was like magic that exploded into a colorful fireworks of vicious pain spilling over his torso. One moment, she was glaring at him, and the next – her stick she had left across the coffee table, was in her grip and its pointy end buried in his side. Turning slowly like a skewer in a roast pig.

"I. Don't. Help."

Red and black roses were blooming all over Nick's vision and around her face, like it was some spoiled and burning videotape. He released the breath he choked on in a grunt, then another as she twisted the stick once more for good measure, making sure her statement was heard.

"Then…" Nick struggled as the pain was blinding him, driving him out of his head, but he stubbornly couldn't let it go. Maybe the drug was the problem, after all. "Then what… what are you… doing?"

She yanked the stick out, eliciting Nick's scream. There was no smile for him, anymore. He had crossed the line.

"I'm this world now, and I make them stronger, or make them be no more."

Nick had nothing to say to it, and she got up and left, bringing her stick with her outside. Nick slumped in his chair as little as the chains allowed and tried to not pass out. His heart was pulsating in his whole body, too rapidly, too loudly, and his side was soaking with liquid heat.

* * *

Troy and Alicia changed drivers way past the halfway mark and filled up on gas for what Troy had calculated would be the last time before they hit Texas. If it didn't, the jerry cans would pick up the slack. Alicia didn't hesitate to match his speed now that they'd found some water to add to the engine to keep it cool and the remainder of the drive had been smooth and uneventful.

That was, until they started the approach of Texas and a box inked with her name had caught her attention.

And it had to be for her, right?

She whipped Troy out of his semi-state of sleep as she jumped out, removing it from its spot on the side of the road, confused at first when she found nothing to be inside it and then saw the second message.

She handed Troy the box through the open window.

As ominous as this whole thing was and how big a risk they'd taken, this was the first sign to indicate that they'd made the right choice and that this bitch had kept her end of the bargain.

They'd travelled with them.

Troy squished the box between his hands when they started driving again and threw it back out of the window, helping Alicia as they looked for any signs to point them toward Eldorado. A choice that might have had a joke attached to it if they weren't actually heading there in search of golden hope. Troy still couldn't figure out what the woman possibly needed from them though, especially out here, and why use Nick as leverage? Was it a coincidence or something else? For someone who'd pulled them all the way out here, she had to have some kind of organization ability. It was also possible she wasn't as mentally challenged as Troy had thought.

"There it is!" Alicia all but cried, sitting on the edge of the seat, index finger pressed to the windshield as if Troy couldn't read the big sign himself. There were a few other cars in the lot when they pulled in, most that looked abandoned and others that just looked questionable. She leapt out again without bothering with the ignition, forcing Troy to twist off the key and to scramble out after her.

"Take it easy," he chided, seeing her eyes fixate ahead like a lion zeroing in on a gazelle.

He looked around, trying to gauge if there was anyone sitting in one of the cars parked out front and found there to be none. He retrieved their weapons again and the radio, clipping the latter to his waist.

Alicia took the knife Troy offered her and started ahead while he picked up the rear. There were undead nearby but none that they came across as they entered. At least not as they expected. Alicia stopped moving, frozen, gaze glued to a figure with a familiar looking head of hair and a jacket.

"Nick?" Alicia asked hollowly, her voice picking up in anguish, becoming louder and louder until she captured the attention of the dead and he started shuffling toward us. Troy let the door swing shut behind him and stepped in front of her to protect her, to see what she was seeing, a whirlwind of emotion sweeping through him as he took in the damage to the dead's face, the horror of what he must endured.

"No," she murmured, the word fusing into one sickening mantra that was barely audible for a moment and amplified when Troy stepped forward to meet the skin muncher halfway and drove his knife into his skull. He dropped, and so did she, as if they were connected and their lives had drained together.

Troy couldn't believe it, couldn't believe she'd made them drive all this way only to deliver him to them dead.

Anger took a hold of Troy, a nasty hold that knew when he found that woman he'd bestow her all kinds of torture, all kinds of experimentation he had visited on the Mexicans and hadn't considered before. She'd suffer – like Alicia was suffering – like he had clearly suffered. Alicia crawled the short distance toward the body, tentatively reaching out to touch the dead's pants leg, yanking her shaking hand back as if she feared him, feared the truth, and then forced herself to grab the corner of his jacket as an anchor. Not to pull him closer but to pull herself closer.

Troy couldn't watch, he couldn't deal with his own feelings, let alone the anguish radiating off her, remainder in part of how he'd caused his brother's death and how Troy had to put him down.

He'd saved her from that.

Troy scanned the diner and walked away from Alicia to make sure Nick was the only dead and that there was no one else they had to worry about.

Was she still here? Watching their reaction from a dingy corner?

God, Troy hoped so.

He searched the diner, checked every corner, every room, until eventually he returned to the main dining area. Alicia was sitting up, next to the body, tears dry on her face, bloodied paper towels in her hands.

"It's not him," she said, sounding numb and as if she couldn't believe it.

Troy joined her beside the man, crouching to get a good look at the body and found that there were a lot of dissimilarities between the two to back up her statement. The hair for one—at least what was left of it—the height and the weight. They'd been wound so tight and so worried that when they'd seen him, seen the jacket, it had been enough to set things in blind motion and crushed them.

They'd both just reacted.

Troy could see a faint 'call me' scrawled on each of his cheeks.

"Fucking Bitch," he snarled, watching as Alicia continued to affectionately wipe the blood from pseudo Nick's hair, a mocking representation and apology and what she wished to do for her brother.

He unclipped the radio from his pants, turned it on and pressed the talk.

"We're here. Where is he."


End file.
